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By Ethel M. Veil 


The Way of an Eagle 

The Knave of Diamonds 

The Rocks of Valpre 

The Swindler, and Other Stories 

The Keeper of the Door 

The Bars of Iron 

The Hundredth Chance 



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■■■'■■. . 'P-: ‘^■.;* •*- ‘. -v: - 



WITH THE UTMOST GENTLENESS HE LAID HIS HAND AGAIN UPON 
HERS. “are you afraid TO SAY IT?” HE SAID. 

Drawn by E. L. Crompton {See page pS) 


The 

Hundredth Chance 



By 

Ethel M. DeU 

li 

Author of “The Way ol an Eagle,” “ Bars of Iron,” etc. 


G, P. Putnam’s Sons 
New York and London 
Ubc ‘f^nfcherbocfter press 

1917 


t 


Copyright, 1917 

BY 

ETHEL M. DELL 




Ube ftnicbeirbocbet press, flew l^orb 






7- -■ 


X 

”5b . 


\ 



I Dedicate This Book 

TO 

My Old Friend 

W. S. H. 

In Affectionate Remembrance of Many Kindnesses 

I' 



4 




“ The plowman shall overtake the reaper, 

And the treader of grapes him that soweth seed.” 

Obadiah g-ij. 



CONTENTS 


PART I 
THE START 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Beggars i 

II. — The Idol 8 

III. — The New Acquaintance . . .14 

IV. — The Accepted Suitor ... 22 

V. — In the Dark 28 

VI. — The Unwilling Guest . . • 35 

VII. — The Magician 45 

VIII. — The Offer 51 

IX. — The Real Man 63 

X. — The Head of the Family . . .71 
XI. — The Declaration of War . . 79 

XII. — The Reckoning ..... 87 

XIII. — The Only Port .... 93 

XIV. — The Way of Escape . . . .107 

XV. — The Closed Door . . . .114 

XVI. — The Champion 124 

vii 


- viii Contents 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVII. — The Wedding Morning . . .131 

XVIII. — The Wedding Night . . . .137 

XIX. — The Day After .... 146 

XX. — A Friend of the Family . . *154 

XXI. — The Old Life 162 

XXII. — The Faithful Widower . . *171 

XXIII. — The Narrowing Circle . . .177 

XXIV. — Brothers . . . . . .186 

XXV. — Misadventure 193 

XXVI. — The Word Unspoken . . .201 

XXVII. — The Token 209 

XXVIII. — The Visitor 218 

XXIX. — Her Other Self .... 228 

XXX. — The Rising Current .... 241 

XXXI. — Light Relief ..... 250 

XXXII. — The Only Solution .... 255 

XXXIII. — The Furnace ..... 262 

XXXIV. — The Sacrifice 272 

XXXV. — The Offer of Freedom . . .281 

XXXVI. — The Bond 293 

PART II 
THE RACE 

I. — Husks 300 


Contents 


IX 


CHAPTER page 

11 . — The Poison Plant .... 306 

III. — Confidences . . . . .313 

IV. — The Letter . . . . .325 

V. — Rebellion 332 

VI. — The Problem ..... 338 

VII. — The Land of Moonshine . . . 348 

VIII. — The Warning ..... 355 

IX. — The Invitation .... 363 

X. — The Mistake ..... 373 

XI. — The Reason 383 

XII. — Refuge ...... 392 

XIII. — The Lamp before the Altar . . 401 

XIV. — The Open Door 406 

XV. — The Downward Path . . .416 

XVI. — The Revelation .... 424 

XVII. — The Last Chance .... 435 

XVIII. — The Whirlpool 441 

XIX. — The Outer Darkness . . . 450 

XX. — Deliverance 457 

XXL — The Poison Fruit .... 464 

XXII. — The Loser ..... 473 

XXIII. — The Storm Wind . . . .481 

XXIV. — The Great Burden .... 490 


X 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXV. — The Blow ...... 496 

XXVI. — ^The Deed of Gift .... 502 

XXVII. — The Impossible 510 

XXVIII. — The First OF THE Vultures . . 514 

XXIX. — The Dutiful Wife .... 523 

XXX. — ^The Lane of Fire .... 530 

XXXI. — The New Boss 536 

XXXII. — Old Scores 544 

Epilogue: The Finish . . . 553 



The Hundredth Chance 


5 


Beggars 

next venture might be, and, save for a very occasional 
correspondence with an elderly bachelor uncle who was 
careful not to betray too keen an interest in her affairs, she 
was left severely alone. 

Therefore she had too much pride to ask for help, sus- 
taining herself instead upon the kindness of friends till even 
this prop at length gave way ; and she, Maud and poor little 
Bunny (whose very empty title was all he possessed in the 
world) found themselves stranded at Fairharbour at the 
dead end of the season with no means of paying their way 
even there. 

Not wholly stranded, however! Lady Brian had stayed 
at Fairharbour before at the Anchor Hotel down by the 
fishing-quay — “the Anchovy Hotel” Bunny called it on 
account of its situation. It was not a very high-class 
establishment, but Lady Brian had favoured it on a previ- 
ous occasion because Lord Saltash had a yacht in the 
vicinity, and it had seemed such a precious opportunity for 
dear Maud. He also had large racing-stables in the neigh- 
bourhood of the downs behind the little town, and there was 
no knowing when one or other of his favourite pastimes 
might tempt him thither. 

Nothing had come of the previous visit, however, save a 
pleasant, half-joking acquaintance with Mr. Sheppard, the 
proprietor of the Anchor Hotel, during the progress of 
which Lady Brian’s appealing little ways had laid such 
firm hold of the worthy landlord’s rollicking fancy that 
she had found it quite difficult to tear herself away. 

Matters had not then come to such a pass, and she had 
finally extricated herself with no more than a 'laughing 
promise to return as soon as the mood took her. Maud 
had been wholly unaware of the passage between them 
which had been of a very slight and frothy order ; and not 
till she found herself established in some very shabby lodg- 
ings withm a stone’s throw of the Anchor Hotel did the 


6 


The Hundredth Chance 


faintest conception of her mother’s reason for choosing 
Fairharbour as their city of refuge begin to dawn in her 
brain. 

She was very fully alive to it now, however, and hotly, 
furiously resentful, albeit she had begun already to realize 
(how bitterly !) that no resentment on her part could avert 
the approaching catastrophe. As Lady Brian pathetically 
said, something had got to be sacrificed. 

And there was Bunny! She could not leave Bunny to 
try to earn a living. He was utterly dependent upon her — 
so dependent that it did not seem possible that he could 
live without her. No, she could see no way of escape. But 
it was too horrible, too revolting! She was sure, too, that 
her mother had a sneaking liking for the man, and 
that fact positively nauseated her. That awful person! 
That bounder ! 

“So, you see, dear, it really can’t be helped,” Lady 
Brian said, rising and opening her sunshade with a dainty 
air of finality. “Why his fancy should have fallen upon 
me I cannot imagine. But — all things considered — it is 
perhaps very fortunate that it has. He is quite ready to 
take us all in, and that, even you must admit, is really very 
generous of him. ” 

Maud’s eyes travelled again to the far sky-line. They 
had a look in them as of a caged thing yearning for freedom. 

“It is getting late,” said Lady Brian. 

Sharply she turned. “ Mother, ” she said, “ I shall write 
to Uncle Edward. This is too much. I am sure he will not 
condemn us to this. ” 

Lady Brian sighed a trifle petulantly. “You will do as 
you like, dear, no doubt. But pray do not write on my 
account! Whatever he may be moved to do or say can 
make no difference to me now.” 

“Why not?” Curtly her daughter put the question. 
The beautiful brows were painfully drawn. 


Beggars 7 

“Because,” said Lady Brian plaintively, “it will be too 
late — so far as I am concerned. ” 

“What do you mean?” Again, almost like a challenge, 
the girl flung the question. 

Lady Brian began to walk along the beach. “I mean, 
dear, that I have promised to give Mr. Sheppard his answer 
to-night. ” 

“But — but — Mother — ” there was almost a cry in the 
words, “you can’t — you can’t have quite decided upon 
what the answer will be!” 

Lady Brian sighed again. “Oh, do let us have a little 
common-sense!” she said, with just a touch of irritation. 
“Of course I have decided. The decision has been simply 
thrust upon me. I had no choice. ” 

“Then you mean to say Yes ? ” Maud’s voice fell suddenly 
flat. She turned her face again to the open sea, a glint of 
desperation in her eyes. 

“Yes,” said Lady Brian very definitely. “I mean to 
say Yes.” 

“Then Heaven help us!” said Maud, under her breath. 

“My dear, don’t be profane!” said Lady Brian. 


CHAPTER II 


THE IDOL 

I SAY, Maud, y what a dratted long time you’ve been! 

1 What on earth have you and the mother been 
doing?” Young Bernard Brian turned his head towards 
his sister with the chafing, impatient movement of one 
bitterly at variance with life “You swore you wouldn’t 
be long,” he said. 

“I knov/. I’m sorry.” Maud came to his side and 
stooped over him. “I couldn’t help it. Bunny,” she said. 
“ I haven’t been enjoying myself. ” 

He looked up at her suspiciously. “Oh, it’s never your 
fault,” he said, with dreary sarcasm. 

Maud said nothing. She only laid a smoothing hand on 
his crumpled brow, and after a moment bent and kissed it. 

He jerked his head away from her caress, opening and 
shutting his hands in a nervous way he had acquired in 
babyhood. “I’ve had a perfectly sickening time, ” he said. 
“There’s a brute with a gramophone upstairs been driving 
me nearly crazy. For goodness’ sake, see if you can put a 
stop to it before to-night comes! I shall go clean off my 
head if you don’t!” 

“I’ll do my best, dear,” Maud promised. 

“ I wish to goddness we could get away from this place,” 
the boy said restlessly. “Even the old ‘Anchovy’ was 
preferable. I loathe this hole. ” 

“Oh, so do I!” said Maud, v/ith sudden vehemence. 


The Idol 


9 


And then she checked herself quickly as if half-ashamed. 
“ Of course it might be worse, you know, Bunny, ” she said. 

Bunny curled a derisive lip, and looked out of the window. 

“ Did you really like ‘ The Anchor ’ better? ” Maud asked, 
after a moment. 

He drew his brows together — beautiful brows like her 
own, betraying a sensitive, not too well-balanced tempera- 
ment. “ It was better, ” he said. 

Maud sat down beside his sofa with a slight gesture of 
weariness. “You would like to go back there ? ” she asked. 

He looked at her sharply. “We are going?” 

She met his look with steady eyes. “Mr. Sheppard has 
offered to take us in,” she said. 

The boy frowned still more. “What! For nothing?” 
he said. 

“No; not for nothing.” The girl was frowning too — 
the frown of one confronted with a difficult task. “No- 
body ever does anything for nothing, ” she said. 

“Well? What is it?” Bunny’s eyes suddenly narrowed 
and became shrewd. “He doesn’t want you to marry him, 
I suppose?” 

“Good gracious. Bunny!” Maud gasped the words in 
sheer horror. “What ever made you think of that?” 

Bunny laughed — a cracked, difficult laugh. “Because 
he’s bounder enough for anything; and you’re so beastly 
fond of him, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, don’t!” Maud said. “Really don’t, Bunny! It’s 
too horrible to joke about. No, it isn’t me he wants to 
marry. It’s — ^it’s ” 

“The mother?” queried Bunny, without perturbation. 
“ Oh, he’s quite welcome to her. It’s a pity he’s been such a 
plaguey time making up his mind. He might have known 
she’d jump at him. ” 

“But, Bunny — ” Maud was gazing at him in utter 
amazement. There were times when the working of her 


10 


The Hundredth Chance 


young brother's brain was wholly beyond her compre- 
hension. “ You can’t be — pleased ! ” she said. 

“I’m never pleased,” said Bunny sweepingly. “I hate 
everything and everybody — except you, and you don’t 
count. The man’s a brute of course; but if the mother has 
a mind to marry him, why on earth shouldn’t she? Espe- 
cially if it’s going to make us more comfortable!” 

‘ ‘ Comfortable on his money 1 ’ ’ There was scorn unutter- 
able in Maud’s voice. Her eyes were tragically proud. 

“But, why not?” said Bunny, with cynical composure. 
“We shall never be comfortable on our own, that’s certain. 
If the man is fool enough to want to lay out his money in 
that way, why, let him!” 

“Live on his — charity!” said Maud very bitterly. 

The boy’s mouth twisted. “We’ve got to live on some- 
one’s,” he said. “There’s nothing new in that. I think 
you’re rather an ass, Maud. It’s no good being proud when 
you can’t afford it. We can’t earn a living for ourselves, so 
someone must do it for us, that’s all. ” 

“Bunny!” There was passionate protest in the ex- 
clamation; but he passed it by. 

“What’s the good of arguing?” he said irritably. “We 
can’t help ourselves. If the mother would rather marry 
that bawling beast Sheppard than starve on a doorstep with 
us, who’s to blame her? I suppose we’re included in the 
bargain for good, are we?” 

Maud nodded mutely, her fingers locked and straining 
against each other. 

Bunny screwed his face up for a moment. Then: 
“There’s that filthy gramophone again!” he suddenly 
exclaimed. “ Go and stop it, I say ! I can’t bear the noise ! 
I won’t bear it ! It’s — it’s — it’s infernal ! That’s what it 
is!” He flung his arms up frenziedly above his head, and 
then suddenly uttered an anguished cry of pain. 

Maud was on her feet on the instant. She caught the 


TM Idol 


II 


arms, drew them firmly ddwn again. “Oh, don’t, dear, 
don’t!” she said. “You know you can’t!” 

The boy’s face was convulsed. “I didn’t know! I can 
sometimes! Oh, Maud, I hate life! I hate it! I hate 
it!” 

His voice choked, became a gasping moan, ceased alto- 
gether. 

Maud stooped over him. His eyes were shut, his face 
white as death. “Bunny, Bunny darling!” she whispered 
passionately. “I would give — all the world — to make it 
better for you!” 

There fell a silence, while gradually the awful paroxysm 
began to pass. 

Then very abruptly Bunny opened his eyes. “No, you 
wouldn’t!” he said unexpectedly. 

“Indeed I would!” she said very earnestly. 

“You wouldn’t!” he reiterated, with the paralysing 
conviction that refuses to hear any reasoning. “If you 
would, you’d have married Lord Saltash years ago, and been 
rich enough to pay one of the big men to put me right.” 

She winced sharply. “Bunny! You’re not to talk to 
me of Lord Saltash. It isn’t kind. He is the one man in 
the world I — couldn’t marry. ” 

“Rot!” said Bunny. “You know you’re in love with 
him.” ■ 

“I know I couldn’t marry him,” she said, a piteous 
quiver in her voice. “ It is cruel to — to — ” She broke off. 

“All right, ” said Bunny waiving the point. “ Find some 
other rich man then! I don’t care who it is. You’ll have 
to pretty soon. We shall neither of us stand this Sheppard 
person for long. ” 

“If I could only — somehow — make a living for the two 
of us!” the girl said. 

“You can’t!” Again deadly conviction swept aside 
argument. “You Ye not clever enough, and you haven’t 


12 


The Hundredth Chance 


time — unless you propose to leave me to the tender mercies 
of the Sheppard. It would be a quick way out of the 
difficulty so far as I am concerned anyway.” 

“ Of course I could never leave you!” Maud said quickly. 

'‘All right then. Marry — and be quick about it!” said 
Bunny. 

He turned his drawn, white face to the window — a face 
of unconscious pathos that often stirred his sister to the 
depths. Youth — and the gladness of youth — had never 
existed for Bunny Brian. Life for so long as he could 
remember had always been a long, dreary round of pain and 
disappointment, of restless nights and dragging, futile days. 
Only Maud, who shared them all, knew to the uttermost the 
woeful bitterness of the lad’s existence. It hurt her cruelly, 
that bitterness, moving her to a perpetual self-sacrifice, of 
the extent of which even Bunny had small conception. 

She identified herself completely with him, and had so 
done since the tenth year of her life when he had come — a 
puny, wailing baby — into the world to fill the void of her 
childish heart. She had, as it were, grown up in his service, 
worn and sallow and thin, with the sharp edges of nerves 
that were always strung up to too high a pitch — the nerves 
of one who scarcely ever knew a whole night of undisturbed 
rest. They had told upon her, those years of anxiety and 
service; they had shorn away her youth also. Only once 
— and that for how short a time! — had life ever seem.ed 
desirable in her eyes. A brief and splendid dream had been 
hers, spreading like a golden sunrise over her whole horizon. 
But the dream had faded, the sunrise had been extinguished 
in heavy clouds that had never again parted. She knew life 
now for a grey, grey dreariness on which no light could 
ever shine again. She was tired — tired to the soul of her; 
and she was only twenty-five. 

“Maud!” Bunny’s voice half-irritable, half-eager, broke 
in upon her. “See that fellow down there trying to make 


The Idol 


13 


his nag go into the sea? It’s going to be a big job. Let’s 
go down and see it done!” 

Bunny’s long chair was in a corner of the room. It was 
no light task to get it in and out of the house; but Maud 
was used to the management of it. The weight of it went 
in with the other burdens of life. She was used also to lift- 
ing Bunny’s poor little wasted body, and no wish of his that 
she could gratify was ever left neglected. Aloreover, the 
offensive clamour of the gramophone overhead added to her 
alacrity to obey his behests. And the day was bright and 
warm, with a south wind blowing over a sparkling sea. 

It would do Bunny good to go out, especially if he desired 
to go. It was not always that he would consent to do so 
after a sleepless night. But there was an extraordinary 
vitality in the meagre frame, a fevered, driving force that 
never seemed to be wholly exhausted. There were times 
when inaction was absolute torture to him, and Maud was 
ready to go until she dropped if only she could in some 
measure alleviate that chafing restlessness. She counted it 
luck indeed if these moods of fret and turmoil raged during 
the day. She was better able to cope with them then, and 
it gave the night a better chance. Poor lad 1 He could fight 
his own way through the days, but the long-drawn-out 
misery of nights of incessant pain broke him down — how 
completely only Maud ever knew. 

So, gladly she wheeled him forth on that afternoon of 
late October, down the hill to the sun-bathed shore. 

That hill taxed her physical powers to the uttermost. 
Secretly she dreaded the ascent, but not for worlds would 
she have had Bunny know it — Bunny who depended solely 
upon her for the very few pleasures that ever came his way. 
To the last ounce of her strength she was dedicated to the 
service of her idol. 


CHAPTER III 


THE NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


HEY reached the sunny stretch of parade in time to 



1 see the young chestnut that had excited Bunny’s 
interest being coaxed along the edge of the water by his 
rider. The animal was covered with froth, and evidently 
in a ferment of nervous excitement. The man who rode 
him sat loosely in the saddle as if the tussle in progress were 
of very minor importance in his estimation. He kept the 
fretting creature’s head turned towards the water, however, 
and at intervals he patted the streaming neck and spoke a 
few words of encouragement. 

At Bunny’s request his chair was drawn to the edge of 
the parade, and from here he and Maud watched the pro- 
gress of the battle. A battle of wills it undoubtedly was, 
though there was nothing in the man’s attitude to indicate 
any strain. He was obviously one who knew how to bide 
his time, thick-set, bull-necked, somewhat bullet-headed, 
with a face of even redness and a short, blunt nose that 
looked aggressively confident. 

“Wonder if he’ll do it, ” said Bunny. 

Maud wondered too, realizing that the task would be no 
easy one. The horse was plainly on edge with apprehen- 
sion, and her sympathies went out to him. Somehow she 
did rfot want to see him conquered. In fact, not greatly 
admiring the physiognomy of his rider, she hoped the horse 
would win. 


14 


15 


The New Acquaintance 

Stepping with extreme daintiness, as if he expected the 
ground to open and swallow him, the animal sidled past, 
and she caught the gleam of a wicked eye as he went. 
There was mischief mingled with his fear. He evidently 
was not feeling particularly kindly disposed towards the 
man who rode him. The loose seat of the latter made her 
wonder if he were wholly aware of this. 

“He’ll be thrown if he isn’t careful,” she said, half to 
herself and half to Bunny, who was watching with the keen- 
est interest. 

“Hope he’ll tumble into the water,” said Bunny, who 
enjoyed dramatic situations. 

The pair had passed them and were continuing their 
sidling progress along the beach. The man still appeared 
preoccupied, the horse still half-frightened, half-mischiev- 
ous. Some fifty yards they covered thus ; then the figure in 
the saddle slowly stiffened. Aware of an impending change 
of treatment, the animal began to jib with his head in the 
air. An odd little thrill went through Maud, a feeling 
as of electricity in the air. It was almost a sensation of 
■foreboding. And then clean and grim as a pistol-shot, 
she heard the crack of a whip on the creature’s quivering 
flank. 

It was a well-earned correction, deliberately adminis- 
tered, one stinging cut, delivered with a calculation that 
knew exactly where to strike. But the horse, a young 
animal, leapt into the air as if he had been shot indeed, and 
landing again almost on th^ same spot began forwith to 
buck-jump in frenzied efforts to free himself of the task- 
master whose lash was so unerring. 

The whip descended again with absolute precision. It 
looked almost like a feat of jugglery to Maud’s fasciipited 
eyes. The horse uttered a furious squeal. He was being 
forced, literally forced, into the hated water, and he knew 
it, set himself with all the fiery unreason of youth to resist. 


i6 


The Hundredth Chance 


and incidentally to receive a punishment none the less 
painful on account of its extreme deliberation. 

As for his rider, he kept his seat v/ithout apparent effort. 
He kept his temper also to all outward appearance. He 
even in the thick of the struggle abandoned force and tried 
coaxing again. It was only when this failed that it seemed 
to the watching girl that a certain quality of implacability 
began to manifest itself. His movements were no less 
studied, but they seemed to her to become relentless. From 
that moment she knew with absolute certainty that there 
could be but one end to the struggle. 

Some dim suspicion of the same thing must have pene- 
trated the animal’s intelligence also, for almost from the 
same moment he seemed to lose heart. He still bucked aw’ay 
from the water and leapt in futile frenzy under the unspar- 
ing whip; but his fury was past. He no longer tried to 
fling his rider over his head. He seemed to be fighting to 
save his pride rather than for any other reason. 

But his pride had to go. Endurance had its limits, and 
his smooth, clipped flanks were smarting intolerably. Very 
suddenly he gave in and walked into the water. 

It foamed alarmingly round his legs, and he started in 
genuine terror and tried to turn; but on the instant a hand 
was on his neck, a square, sustaining hand that patted and 
consoled. 

“Now, don’t be a fool horse any longer!” said his con- 
queror. “Don’t you know it’s going to do you good? 
Go on and face it I ” 

He went on, splashing his rider thoroughly, first in, 
sheer nervousness, later in undisguised content. 

He came out of the water some five minutes later, a 
wiser and considerably less headstrong youngster than he 
had entered it, and walked serenely along the edge as if 
he had been accustomed to it all his life. When the spread- 
ing foam washed round his hoofs, he did not so much as 


17 


The New Acquaintance 

lay an ear. He had surrendered his pride, and he did not 
seem to feel the sacrifice. 

“A beastly tame ending!” said Bunny in frank dis- 
appointment. “I hoped the fellow was going to break his 
neck. ” 

The horseman was passing immediately below them. 
He looked up, and Maud coloured a guilty scarlet, realizing 
that he had overheard the remark. He had the most 
startlingly bright eyes she had ever seen. They met hers 
with a directness that seemed to pierce straight through her, 
and passed on unblinkingly to the boy in the long chair. 
There was something lynx-like in the straight regard, some- 
thing so deliberately intent that it seemed formidable. His 
clean-shaven, weather-beaten face had an untamed, primi- 
tive look about it, as of one born in the wilderness. His 
mouth was rugged rather than coarse, but it was not 
the mouth of civilization. 

Bunny, who was not easily daunted, looked hard back 
at him, with the brazen expression of one challenging a 
rebuke. But the horseman refused the challenge, passing 
on without a word. 

“I’m tired,” said Bunny, in sudden discontent. “Let’s 
go back!” 

When he spoke in that tone, he was invariably beyond 
coaxing. Maud turned the chair without protest, and 
prepared to make that exhausting ascent. 

“How slow you are to-day!” said Bunny peevishly. “I 
hate this beastly hill. You make me go up it on my head ! ” 

The slant was certainly acute. Maud murmured sym- 
pathy. “ I would pull you up if I could, ” she said. 

“You’ve never even tried,” said Bunny. 

He was plainly in an exacting mood. Her heart sank 
a little lower. “ It’s no use trying, darling, ” she said. “ I 
know I can’t. But I won’t take a minute longer over it 
than I can help. ” 


1 8 The Hundredth Chance 

“You never do anything decently,” said Bunny in disv 
gust. 

Maud made no rejoinder. She bent in silence to her task. 

Bunny could not see her face, and she strove desperately 
to control her panting breath. 

“You puff like a grampus, ” the boy said discontentedly. 

There came the quick fall of a horse’s hoofs behind them, 
and Maud bent her flushed face a little lower. She did 
not want to meet that piercing regard again. But the hoof- 
beats slackened behind her, and a voice spoke — a voice so 
curiously soft that at the first sound she almost believed 
it to be that of a woman. 

“Say! That’s too heavy a job for you. ” 

She paused — it was inevitable — and looked round. 

In the same moment he slid to the ground — a square, 
sturdy figure, shorter than she had imagined him when he 
was in the saddle, horsey of aspect, clumsy of build, possess- 
ing a breadth of chest that seemed to indicate vast strength. 

Again those extremely bright eyes met hers, red-brown, 
intensely alive. She felt as if they saw too much ; they made 
her vividly conscious of her hot face and labouring heart. 
They embarrassed her, made her resentful. 

She was too breathless to speak; perhaps she might not 
have done so in any case. But he did not wait for that. 
He pushed forward till he stood beside her. 

“You take my animal!” he said. “He’s quiet enough 
now.” 

She might have refused, had she had time to consider. 
But he gave her none. He almost thrust the bridle into her 
hands, and the next moment he had taken her place behind 
the invalid-chair and begun briskly to push it up the hill. 

Maud followed, leading the now docile horse, divided 
between annoyance and gratitude. Bunny seemed struck 
dumb also, though whether with embarrassment or merely 
surprise she could not tell. 


19 


The New Acquaintance 

At the top of the steep ascent the stranger stopped and 
faced round. ‘‘Thanks!” he said briefly, and took his 
horse back into his own keeping. 

Maud stood, feeling shy and awkward, while he set his 
foot in the stirrup. Then, ere he mounted, with a desper- 
ate effort she spoke. 

“ It was very kind of you. Thank you very much. ” 

Her voice sounded coldly formal by reason of her extreme 
discomfiture. She would have given a good deal to have 
avoided speaking altogether. But the man stopped dead 
and looked at her as though she had attempted to detain 
him. 

“ You’ve nothing to thank me for, ” he said, in that queer, 
soft voice of his. “As I said before, it’s too heavy a job 
for you. You’ll get a groggy heart if you keep on with 
it.” > 

There was no intentional familiarity in the speech, 
but it made her stiffen instinctively. 

“It was very kind of you,” she repeated, and with a 
bow that was even more freezingly polite than her words 
she turned to the chair and prepared to walk on. 

But at this point Bunny suddenly found his voice in 
belated acknowledgment of the service rendered. “Hi! 
You! Stop a minute! Thanks for pushing me up this 
beastly hill!” 

The stranger was still standing with his foot in the stirrup ; 
but at the sound of Bunny’s voice he took it out again and 
came to the boy’s side, leading his horse. 

“What a beauty!” said Bunny, admiringly. “Let me 
touch him, I say!” 

“Oh, don’t!” Maud said nervously. “He looked so 
savage just now. ” 

“He’s not savage,” said the horse’s owner, and pulled 
the animal’s nose down to Bunny’s eager, caressing hand. 

The creature was plainly suspicious. He tried to avoid 


20 


The Hundredth Chance 


the caress, but his master and Bunny were equally insistent, 
and he finally submitted. 

‘‘He’s not savage,” his rider said again. “He’s only 
young and a bit heady; wants a little shaping — like all 
youngsters. ” 

Bunny’s shrewd eyes flashed him a rapid glance, meet- 
ing the red-brown eyes deliberately scrutinizing him. 
With a certain blunt courage that was his, he tackled the 
situation. 

“I say, did you hear what I said down on the parade?” 

The man smiled a little, still watching Bunny’s red 
face. “Did you mean me to hear?” he enquired. 

“No,” said Bunny, staring back, half -fascinated and 
half-defiant. 

“All right then. I didn’t,” the horseman said. 

Bunny’s expression changed. He smiled; and when he 
smiled his lost youth looked out of his worn face. “Good 
for you!” he said. “I say, I hope we shall see you again 
some time. ” 

“If you are here for long, you probably will,” the man 
made answer. 

“Do you live here?” Bunny’s voice was eager. His 
eyes sparkled with interest. 

The man nodded. “Yes, I’m a fixture. And you?” 

“ Oh, we’re going to be fixtures too, ” said Bunny. “ This 
is my sister Maud. I am Sir Bernard Brian. ” 

Maud’s ready blush rose burningly. She fidgeted to be 
gone. Bunny’s swaggering announcement made her long 
to sink through the earth. She dreaded to hear his listener 
laugh, even looked up in surprise when no laugh came. 

He was surveying Bunny with that same unblinking 
regard that had disconcerted her. The slight smile was 
. still on his face, but it was not a derisive smile, 

I- After a moment he said, “My name is Bolton — Jake 
Bolton. Think you can remember that?” 


The New Acquaintance 

“What are you?” said Bunny, with frank curiosity. 

“I?” The faint smile suddenly broadened, showin^, 
teeth that were large and very white. “I am a groom,” 
the horseman said. 

“Are you?” The boy’s eyes opened wide. “Then 
you’re not a mister!” he said. 

“ Oh no, I’m not a mister ! ” There was certainly a laugh 
in the womanish voice this time, but it held no open ridicule. 
“ I’m plain Jake Bolton. You can call me Bolton or Jake — 
which ever you like. Good day, Sir Bernard!” 

He backed his horse with the words, and mounted. 

Maud did not look at him. She felt too overwhelmed. 
Moreover, she was sure — painfully sure — that he looked 
at her, and she thought there must be at least amusement in 
his eyes. 

With relief she heard him turn his horse and trot down 
the hill. He had not even been going their way, then. Her 
face burned afresh. 

“What a queer fish!” said Bunny. “Hullo! What are 
you so red about?” 

“I wish you wouldn’t tell people your title,” she said. 
‘ ‘ They only laugh . ” 

“He didn’t laugh when I told him, ” said Bunny. “ And 
why shouldn’t I? ‘ I’ve a right to it.” 

He would not see her point she knew. But she made an 
attempt to explain. ‘ ‘ He would have liked to call himself a 
gentleman, ” she said. “ But — he didn’t. ” 

“ That’s quite different, ” said Bunny loftily. “ He knows 
he isn’t one.” 

Maud abandoned the argument then, because — though 
it was against her judgment — she found that she wanted to 
agree. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE ACCEPTED SUITOR 


H 


ARK to the brute!” said Bunny. 

A long, loud peal of laughter was echoing through 


the house. Maud shuddered at the sound. The noisy woo- 
ing of her mother’s suitor made her feel physically sick. 
But for Bunny, she would have fled incontinently from the 
man’s proximity. Because of Bunny, she sat at a rickety 
writing-table in a corner of the room and penned an urgent, 
almost a desperate, appeal to the bachelor uncle in the 
North to deliver them from the impending horror. No 
other consideration on earth would have forced such an 
appeal from her. She felt literally distraught that night. 
She was being dragged, a helpless prisoner, to the house of 
bondage. 

Again came that loud, coarse laugh, and with it the 
opening of a door on the other side of the passage. 

“Watch out!” warned Bunny. “They’re coming!” 

There was a hint of nervousness in his voice also. She 
heard it, and swiftly rose. When their own door opened, 
she was standing beside him, very upright, very pale, rigidly 
composed. 

Her mother entered, flushed and smiling. Behind her 
came her accepted lover, — a large, florid man, handsome in 
a certain coarse style, with a dissipated look about the eyes 
which told its own tale. Maud quivered in impotent 
resentment whenever she encountered those eyes. They 
could not look upon a woman with reverence. 

22 


The Accepted Suitor 


23 


He strolled into the room in her mother’s wake, fondling 
a dark moustache, in evident good humour with himself 
and all the world. 

Lady Brian ran to her daughter with all a girl’s impetu- 
osity. “My dear, it’s all settled!” she declared. “Giles 
and I are going to be married, and we’re all going to live at 
“ The Anchor ” with him. And dear little Bunny is to have 
the best ground-floor rooms. Now, isn’t that kind?” 

It was kind. Yet Maud stiffened to an even icier fri- 
gidity at the news, and dear little Bunny’s nose turned up 
to an aggressive angle. 

After a distinct pause, Maud bent her long neck and 
coldly kissed her mother’s expectant face. “I hope you — 
and Mr. Sheppard will be very happy,” she said. 

The happy suitor broke into his loud, self-satisfied 
laugh. “Egad, what an enthusiastic reception!” he cried. 
“Have you got a similar chaste salute for me?” 

He swaggered towards her, and Maud froze as she stood. 
Her eyes shot a blue flare of open enmity at him; and — al- 
most in spite of himself — Giles Sheppard paused. 

“By Jove!” he said. “You’ve got a she-wolf here, 
madam. ” 

Lady Brian turned. “ Oh, Giles, don’t be absurd! Maud 
is not like me, you know. She was never demonstrative 
as a child. She was always shy and quiet. They are not 
quite used to the idea of you yet. You must give them 
time. Bunny darling, won’t you give Mother a kiss?” 

“What for?” said Bunny. 

He was tightly gripping Maud’s cold hand with fingers 
that were like tense wire. His eyes, very wide and bright, 
defied the whole world on her behalf. 

“I’m not going to kiss anyone,” he said. “Neither is 
Maud. I don’t know what there is to make such a fuss 
about. You’ve both been married before. ” 

The landlord of “The Anchor” gave a great roar of 


24 


The Hundredth Chance 


laughter. “Not bad for a bantling, eh, Lucy? Didn’t 
know I was to have a sucking cynic for a step-son. You’re 
quite right, my boy; there is nothing to make a fuss about. 
And so we shan’t ask you to dance at the wedding. Not 
that you could if you tried, eh ? And my Lady Disdain there 
won’t be invited. We are going to be married by special 
licence to-morrow afternoon, and you can take possession 
of your new quarters while the knot is being tied. How’s 
that appeal to you?’’ 

Bunny looked at him with a certain grim interest. “ It’ll 
suit me all right,” he said. “But I’m hanged if I can see 
where you come in. ” 

Giles Sheppard laughed again with his tongue in his 
cheek. “ Oh, I shall have my picking at the feast, old son, ” 
he declared jovially. “I’ve had my eye on your mother for 
a long time. Pretty piece of goods she is too. You’re 
neither of you a patch on her. They don’t do you credit, 
Lucy, my dear. Sure they’re your own?” 

“The man’s drunk!” said Maud suddenly and sharply. 

“My dear! My dear!” cried Lady Brian, in dismayed 
protest. 

The girl bit her lip. The words had escaped her, she 
knew not how. 

Giles Sheppard however only laughed again, and seated 
himself on the edge of the table to contemplate her. 

“We shall have to try and find a husband for you, young 
woman, ” he said, “ a husband who’ll know how to bring you 
to heel. It’ll be a tough job. I wonder who’ d like to take 
it on. Jake Bolton might do the trick. We’ll have Jake 
Bolton to dine with us to-morrow. He knows how to tame 
wild animals, does Jake. It’s a damn’ pretty sight to see 
him do it too. Gosh, he knows how to lay it on — ^just where 
it hurts most. ” 

He chuckled grimly with his eyes on Maud’s now crimson 
face. 


25 


The Accepted Suitor 

“Now, Giles,” protested Lady Brian, “you’ve promised 
to be good to my two children. I’m sure we shall all shake 
down comfortably presently. Dear Maud has a good deal 
to learn yet, so you must be patient with her. We were 
foolish ourselves at her age, I have no doubt. ” 

“Oh, no doubt,” said her fianc^, with his thick-lidded 
eyes still mocking the girl’s face of outraged pride. “We’ve 
all been foolish in our time. But there’s only one treat- 
ment for that complaint in the female species, my lady; 
and that is a sound good spanking. It does a vforld of good, 
takes the stiffening out of a woman in no time. I’ve had 
a daughter of my own — a decent little filly she was too. 
Married now and gone to Canada. But I had to keep her in 
order, I can tell you, before she went. I gave her many a 
slippering, and she thought the better of me for it too. She 
knew I wouldn’t stand any of her nonsense. ” 

“Oh, well,” smiled Lady Brian, “we are not all alike, 
370U know; and that sort of treatment doesn’t suit every- 
body. Now I think we all know each other, and my little 
Bunny is looking rather tired. I think we won’t stay any 
longer. It means a bad night if he gets excited. ” 

“Wait a minute!” interposed Bunny. “That man you 
were talking about just now — ^Jake Bolton. Who is he? 
Where does he live?” 

“Who is he?” Giles Sheppard slapped his thigh and rose. 
“He’s one of the best-known fellows about here — a bit of a 
card, but none the worse for that. He’s the trainer up at 
the stables — Lord Saltash’s place. Never heard of him? 
He’s known as ‘The Lynx’ on the turf, because he’s so 
devilish shrewd. Oh yes, he’s quite a card. And to see 
him break one of them youngsters — well, it’s a fair treat. ” 
Mr. Sheppard’s grammar was apt to lapse somewhat 
when his enthusiasm was kindled. Maud shivered a little. 
Lady Brian smiled indulgently. Poor Giles! He was a 
rough diamond. She would have to do a little polishing; 


26 


The Hundredth Chance 


but she was sure he would become quite a valuable gem 
when polished. 

“Oh, he’s Lord Saltash’s trainer is he ? ” she said. “ Lord 
Saltash is a very old friend of ours. Is he — does he ever 
come down here?” 

“Who? Lord Saltash? He has a place here. You 
couldn’t have been very intimate with him if you didn’t 
know that. Just as well p’raps with a man of his tend- 
encies. ” Sheppard laughed in a fashion that sent the hot 
blood back to Maud’s face. “A bit too fond of his neigh- 
bour’s wife — ^that young man. Lucky thing for him that he 
didn’t have to pay heavy damages. More luck than judg- 
ment, to my thinking.” 

“Oh, Giles!” protested Lady Brian. “How you do run 
on ! I did know that he had an estate here. That was why 
I asked if he still came down. You really mustn’t blacken 
the young man’s character in that way. We are all very 
fond of him. ” 

“Are you though!” Sheppard’s laugh died; he looked at 
Maud with a hint of venom. “ Like the rest of your charm- 
ing sex, eh ? Well, we don’t see much of the gay Lothario in 
these parts. If that was your little game, you’d better 
have stopped in town. ” 

Maud’s lips said, “Cad!”, but her voice made no sound. 

He bowed in ironical acknowledgment and turned to her 
mother. “Now, my lady, having received these cordial 
congratulations, I move an adjournment. As you have 
foretold, we shall doubtless all shake down together very 
comfortably in the course of a few weeks. But in the 
meantime I should like to inform all whom it may concern 
that I am master in my own house, and I expect to be 
treated as such. ” 

Again his insolent eyes rested upon Maud’s proud face, 
and her slight form quivered in response though she kept 
her own rigidly downcast. 


27 


The Accepted Suitor 

“Of course that is understood,” said Lady Brian, with 
a pacific hand on his arm. ‘ ‘ There ! Let us go now ! I am 
sure we are all going to be as happy as the day is long. ” 

She looked up at him with persuasive coquetry, and 
he at once succumbed. He pulled her to him roughly and 
bestowed several resounding kisses upon her delicate face, 
not desisting until with laughing remonstrance she put up a 
protesting hand. 

“Giles, really — really — you mustn’t be greedy!” she 
said, and drew him to the door with some urgency. 

He went, his malignancy for the moment swamped by a 
stronger emotion; and brother and sister were left alone. 

“What a disgusting beast!” said Bunny, as the door 
closed. 

Maud said nothing. She only went to the window, and 
flung it wide. 


CHAPTER V 


IN THE DARK 

B lack night and a moaning sea! Now and then a 
drizzle of rain came on a gust of wind, sprinkling the 
girl’s tense face, damping the dark hair that clustered about 
her temples. But she did not so much as feel it. Her 
passionate young spirit was all on fire with a fierce revolt 
against the destinies that ruled her life. She paced the 
parade as one distraught. 

Only for a brief space could she let herself go thus, — only 
while Bunny and their mother played their nightly game 
of cribbage. They did not so much as know that she was 
out of the house. She would have to return ere she was 
missed, and then would follow the inevitable ordeal of put- 
ting Bunny to bed. It was an ordeal that seemed to become 
each night more difficult. In the morning he was easier 
to manage ; but at night when he was tired out and all his 
nerves were on edge she sometimes found the task almost 
beyond her powers. When he was in pain — and this was not 
infrequently — it took her hours to get him finally settled. 

She was sure that it would be no easy task to-night. He 
nad had bouts of severe neuralgia during the day, and his 
flushed face and irritable manner warned her that there was 
a struggle in store. She had sometimes sat waiting till the 
small hours of the morning before he would permit her to 
move or undress him. She felt that some such trial was 
before her now, and her heart was as lead. 

28 


In the Dark 


29 


The house had seemed to stifle her. She had run out 
for a breath of air ; and then something about that moaning 
shore had seemed to draw her. She had run down to the 
parade, and now she paced along it, staring down into the 
fathomless dark below her where the deep water rose and 
fell with a ceaseless moaning, thumping the well beneath 
in sullen impotence. 

There was no splash of waves, only that dumb striving 
against a power it could not overthrow. It was like her 
own mute rebellion, she thought to herself miserably, as 
persistent and as futile. 

She reached the end of the parade. The hour was late; 
the place deserted. There was a shelter here. She was 
sure it would be empty, but it did not attract her. She 
wanted to get as close as possible to that moaning, mysteri- 
ous waste of water. It held a stark fascination for her. 
It drew her like a magnet. She stood on the very edge of 
the parade, facing the drift of rain that blew in from the sea. 
How dark it was ! The nearest lamp was fifty yards away ! 
The thought came to her suddenly, taking form from the 
formless deep : how easy to take one single false step in that 
darkness! How swift the consequence, and how complete 
the deliverance ! 

A short, inevitable struggle in the dark — in the dark; 
and then a certain release from this hateful chain called life. 
It would be terrible, but so quickly over! And this misery 
that so galled her would be for ever past. 

She beat her foot on the edge with a passionate impa- 
tience. What a fool she was to suffer so — when there was 
nothing (never had been anything) in life worth living for ! ’’ 

Nothing? Well, yes, there was Bunny. She was an 
absolute necessity to him. That she knew. She was 
firmly convinced that he would die without her. And 
though he would be far, far happier dead, poor darling, she 
couldn’t leave him to die alone. 


30 


The Hundredth Chance 


She lifted her clenched hands above her head in strain- 
ing impotence. For one black moment she almost wished 
that Bunny were dead. 

And then very suddenly, with staggering unexpectedness 
she received the biggest shock of her life. Two hands 
closed simultaneously upon her wrists, and she was drawn 
into two encircling arms. 

She uttered a startled outcry, and in the same moment 
began a wild and flurried struggle for freedom. But the 
arms that held her closed like steel springs. A man’s 
strength forced her steadily away from the yawning black- 
ness that stretched beyond the parade. 

“It’s no good kicking,” a soft voice said. “You won’t 
get away. ” 

Something in the voice reassured her. She ceased to 
struggle. “Oh, let me go !” she said breathlessly. “ You — 
you don’t understand. I — I — only ” 

“Came out for a breath of air?” he suggested. “Of 
course — I gathered that. ” 

He took his arms away from her, but he still kept one 
of her wrists in a strong grasp. She could not see his face 
in the darkness, only his figure, which was short and stoutly 
built. 

“ Do you know, ” he said, “when people take the air like 
that, I always have to hold on to ’em tight till they’ve had 
all they want. It’s damn’ cheek on my part, as you were 
just going to remark. But, my girl, it’s easier than mucking 
about in a dark sea looking for ’em after they’ve lost their 
balance.” 

He had led her to the shelter. She sat down rather 
helplessly, wondering if it would be possible to conceal her 
identity from him since it was evident that so far he had not 
recognized her. 

He stood in front of her, squarely planted, his hand 
still locked upon her wrist. She had known him from the 


In the Dark 


31 


first word he had spoken, and, remembering those startling 
lynx eyes of his, she felt decidedly uneasy. She was sure 
they could see in the dark. 

She spoke after a moment with slight hesitation. '‘I 
shouldn’t have lost my balance. And if I had meant to 
jump over, as you imagined, I shouldn’t have stood so long 
thinking about it. ” 

“ Sure you’re not thinking about it now? ” he said. 

“Quite sure,” she answered. 

He bent down, and she was sure — quite sure — that his 
eyes scrutinized her and took in every detail. 

The next moment he released her wrist also. ** All right, 
my girl,” he said. “I believe you. But — don’t do it 
again! Accidents happen, you know. You might have 
had one then ; and I should still have had to flounder around 
looking for you. ” 

Something in his tone made her want to smile, and yet 
she felt so sure — so sure — that he knew her all the time. 
And she wanted to resent his familiarity at the same moment. 
For if he knew her, it was rank presximption to address 
her so. 

She rose at length and faced him with such dignity as she 
could muster. “I am obliged to you, ” she said, “but I fail 
to see why your responsibility should extend so far. If I 
had fallen over, the chances are that you could never have 
found me — or saved me if you had. ” 

“Ninety-nine to one!” he said coolly. “But, do you 
know, I rather count on the hundredth chance. I’ve taken 
it — and won on it — before now. ” 

He was not to be disconcerted, it was evident. He was 
plainly a difficult man to rout, one accustomed to keep his 
head in any emergency. And she — she was but a slip of a 
girl in his estimation, and he had her at a disadvantage 
already. 

She felt her face begin to burn in the darkness. She 


32 


The Hundredth Chance 


shifted her ground. “I don’t see why anyone should be 
made to live against his will,” she said, “why it should 
be anyone’s business to interfere. ” 

“That’s because you’re young, ” he said. “ You haven’t 
yet got the proper hang of things. It only comes with 
practice — that. ” 

Her face burned more hotly. He was actually patron- 
izing her ! 

She turned abruptly. “Good evening,” she said, and 
began to walk away. 

But he fell in beside her at once. “I’m going your 
way,” he observed. “May as well see you past the bar 
of ‘ The Anchor.’ They get a bit lively there sometimes at 
this end of the day. ” 

He walked with the slight roll of a man accustomed to 
much riding. She imagined that he never appeared in 
anything but breeches and .gaiters. But his tread was firm 
and purposeful. Quite obviously it never entered his head 
that she might not desire his company. 

For that reason she had to submit to the arrangement 
though she felt herself grow more and more rigid as they 
neared the circle of light cast by the street-lamp. Of course 
he was bound to recognize her now. 

But they reached and passed the lamp, and he tramped 
straight ahead without looking at her, after the square 
fashion that she had somehow begun to associate with 
him. 

They reached and passed “The Anchor” also, with its 
lighted bar and coarse voices and lounging figures. They 
began the steep ascent up which he had pushed Bunny that 
afternoon. It was dark enough here at least, and her self- 
confidence began to revive. She would put him to the test. 
She would pass the gate that he had seen her enter earlier 
in the day. If he displayed surprise or hesitation she 
would know that he had recognized her. 


In the Dark 


33 


But yet again he baffled her. He tramped steadily on. 

She began to get a little breathless. There was another 
lamp at the top of the road. She did not want to reach that. 

In desperation she paused. “Good evening! ” she said 
again. 

He stopped at once, and she thought she caught the 
glitter of his eye, seeking her own in the darkness. 

“You’re going in now?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she said. 

He came a step nearer, and laid one finger on her arm. 
“Look here, my girl! You take a straight tip from me! 
If you’re in any sort of trouble, go and tell someone ! Don’t 
bottle it in till it gets too big for you! And above all, 
don’t go step-dancing on the edge of the parade in the dark ! 
It’s a fool thing to do. ” 

He emphasized his points with impressive taps upon her 
arm. She felt absurdly small and meek. 

“Suppose I haven’t anyone to tell?” she said, after 
a moment. 

He rose to the occasion instantly. “I’m sound,” he 
said. “Tell me!” 

She had not expected that. He seemed to disconcert her 
at every turn. 

“Thank you,” she said, taking refuge in extreme fri- 
gidity. “ I think not. ” 

“As you like,” he said. “I daresay I shouldn’t in your 
place. I only suggested it because I can’t see a girl in 
trouble and pass by on the other side. ” 

He spoke quite quietly, but there was a quality in the 
soft voice that stirred her very strangely, something that 
made her for the moment forget the man’s dominant person- 
ality, and feel as if a woman had uttered the words. 

She put out a groping hand to him, obeying a curious 
impulse that would not be denied. 

“Thank you,” she said again. 

3 


34 


The Hundredth Chance 


He kept her hand for a second or two, holding it squarely, 
almost as if he were waiting for something. 

Then, without a word, he let it go. She turned back, 
and he went on. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE UNWILLING GUEST 

“ 13 HT, my dear child, you must appear!” urged the 

JD bride, with a piteous little twist of the lips. '‘I 
can’t go unsupported into that dreadful crowd.” 

“Oh, Mother!” Maud said. And that was all; for what 
was the good of saying more? Her mother had made the 
choice, and there was no turning back. They could only 
go forward now along the new course, whithersoever it led. 
“I’ll come, ” she said, after a moment. 

Her mother’s smile was full of pathos. “We must all 
make sacrifices for one another, darling,” she said. “I 
have made a very big one for you and Bunny. He — poor 
little lad — isn’t old enough to understand. But surely, 
you, at least can appreciate it.” 

She looked so wistful as she spoke that in spite of her- 
self Maud was moved to a very unusual show of tenderness. 
She turned and kissed her. “ I do hope you will be happy,” 
she said. “ I expect you will, you know, when you are used 
to it.” 

She spoke out of a very definite knowledge of her mother’s 
character. She knew we^l the yielding adaptability thereof. 
Giles Sheppard’s standa very soon be hers also, 

and she would speedily o anything wanting in his 

friends. 

She turned with as: s go and get it over!” 

she said. “ But I can’t I shall have to get back 

to Bunny.” 


36 


The Hundredth Chance 


She and Bunny had spent all the afternoon and evening 
settling into their new quarters at the Anchor Hotel, and it 
had been a tiring task. The bride and bridegroom had gone 
straight from the registry-office where the ceremony had 
been performed to the county town some thirty miles distant, 
in the one ramshackle little motor that the hotel possessed, 
and had returned barely in time to receive the guests whom 
Sheppard had invited to his wedding-feast. 

Neither Maud nor her mother had been told much of the 
forthcoming festivity, and the girl’s dismay upon learning 
that she was expected to attend it was considerable. She 
was feeling tired and depressed. Bunny was in a difficult 
mood, and she knew that another bad night lay before them. 

Still it was impossible to refuse. She could only yield 
with as good a grace as she could muster. 

“Make yourself pretty, won’t you, dear?” said Mrs. 
Sheppard as, her point gained, she prepared smilingly to 
depart. “Wear your white silk! You look charming in 
that.” 

Maud had not the faintest wish to look charming, but 
yet again she could not refuse to gratify a wish so amiably 
expressed. She donned the white silk, therefore, though 
feeling in any but a festive mood, and prepared herself for 
the ordeal with a grim determination to escape from it as 
soon as possible. 

She was not tall, but her extreme slenderness gave her 
a decidedly regal pose. She held her head proudly and 
bore herself with distinction. Her eyes — those wonderful 
blue-violet eyes — had the aloof expression of one whose 
soul is far away. 

Giles Sheppard watched her enter the drawing-room 
behind her mother, and a bitter sneer crossed hi& bloated 
face. He was utterly incapable of appreciating that innate 
pride of race that expressed itself in every line of her. He 
read only contempt for him and his in the girl’s still face, 


37 


The Unwilling Guest 

and the deep resentment kindled the night before began to 
smoulder within him with an ever-increasing heat. How 
dared she show her airs and graces here? — She, a penni- 
less minx dependent now upon his charity for the very bread 
she ate ! 

He turned with an ugly jest at her expense upon his 
lips to the man with whom he had been talking at her 
entrance; but the jest was checked unuttered. For the 
man, square, thickset as a bulldog, abruptly left his side 
and moved forward. 

The quick blood mounted in Maud’s face as he inter- 
cepted her. She looked at him for a second as if she would 
turn and flee. But he held out a steady hand to her, and 
she had to place hers within it. 

In a moment his peculiar voice accosted her. “You 
remember me. Miss Brian? I’m Jake Bolton — the horse 
breaker. I had the pleasure of doing your brother a small 
service yesterday.” 

Both hand and voice reassured her. She had an absurd 
feeling that he was meting out to her such treatment as he 
would have considered suitable for a nervous horse. She 
forced herself to smile upon him; it was the only thing to do. 

He smiled in return — his pleasant open smile. “Re- 
member me now?” he said. 

“Quite well,” she answered. 

“ Good !” he said briefly. “ Let me find you a chair ! I 
don’t suppose you know many of the people here.” 

She did not know any of them, and as Sheppard had 
seized upon his bride, and was presenting her in rude 
triumph to each in turn with much noisy laughter and coarse 
joking it was not difficult to slip into a comer with Jake 
Bolton without attracting further attention. 

He stood beside her for a space while covertly she took 
stock of him. 

Yes, he actually had discarded his gaiters and was 


38 


The Hundredth Chance 


wearing evening dress. It did not seem a natural garb 
for him, but he carried it better than she would have 
expected. He still reminded her very forcibly of horses, 
though she could not have definitely said wherein this 
strong suggestion lay. His ruddy face and short, dominant 
nose might have belonged to a sailor. But the brilliant 
chestnut eyes with their red-brown lashes were somehow 
not of the sea. They made her think of the reek of leather 
and the thud of galloping hoofs. 

Suddenly he turned and caught her critical survey. She 
dropped her eyes instantly in hot confusion, while he, as if 
he had just made up his mind, sat down beside her. 

“So you and your brother are going to live here?’' he 
said. 

She answered him in a low voice; the words seemed to 

leap from her almost without her conscious volition. We 

can’t help ourselves.’’ 

He gave a short nod as of a suspicion confirmed, and 
sat in silence for a little. The loud laughter of Giles 
Sheppard’s guests filled, in the pause. 

Maud held herself rigidly still, repressing a nervous 
shiver that attacked her repeatedly. 

Suddenly the man beside her spoke. “What’s the 
matter with that young brother of yours?’’ 

With relief she came out of her tense silence. “It is an 
injury to the spine. He had a fall in his babyhood. He 
suffers terribly sometimes.’’ 

“Nothing to be done?’’ he asked. 

She shook her head. “No one very good has seen him. 
He won’t let a doctor come near him now.” 

“Oh rats!” exclaimed Jake Bolton unexpectedly. 

She felt her colour rise as he turned his bright eyes 
upon her. 

“You don’t say that a kid like that can get the better of 
you?” he said. 


39 


The Unwilling Guest 

She resented the question; yet she answered it. “Bunny 
has a strong will. I never oppose it.” 

“And why not ? ” He was looking directly at her with a 
comical smile as if he were inspecting some quaint object of 
interest. 

Again against her will she made reply. “I try to give 
him all he wants. He has missed all that is good in life.” 

He wrinkled his forehead for a moment as if puzzled, 
then broke into a laugh. “Say, what a queer notion to 
get!” he said. 

She stiffened on the instant, but he did not seem to 
notice it. He leaned towards her, and laid one finger — a 
short, square fore-finger — on her arm. 

“ Tell me now — what are the good things in life?” 

She withdrew her arm from his touch, and regarded him 
with a hauteur that did not wholly veil her embarrassment. 

“You don’t know!” said Jake. “Be honest and say 
so!” 

But Maud only retired further into her shell. “ I think 
we have wandered rather far from the subject,” she said 
coldly. “My brother is unfortunately the victim of cir- 
cumstance, and no discussion can alter that fact.” 

He accepted the snub without a sign of discomfiture. 
“Is he here now?” he asked. 

She bent her head. “In this house — yes.” 

“Will you let me see him presently?” he pursued. 

Distantly she made reply. “I am afraid that is im- 
possible.” 

“Why?” he said. 

She raised her dark brows. 

“Tell me why!” he insisted. 

Calmly she met his look. “ It is not good for him to see 
strangers at night. It upsets his rest.” 

“You think it would be bad for him to see me ? ” he ques- 
tioned. 


40 


The Hundredth Chance 


His voic6 was suddenly very deliberate. He was looking 
her full in the face. 

A curious little tremor went through her. She felt as 
if he had pinioned her there before him. 

Her reply astounded herself. “I don’t say it would be 
bad for him,— only— inadvisable. He is rather excited 
already.” 

” Will you ask him presently if he woiild care to see me ? ” 
said Jake Bolton steadily. 

She bit her lip, hesitating. 

“I shan’t upset him,” he said. “I won’t excite him. 
I’ll quiet him down.” 

She did not want to yield — yet she yielded. “I will 
ask him — if you wish,” she said. 

He smiled. “Thank you, Miss Brian. You didn’t want 
to give in, did you? But I undertake that you will not be 
sorry.” 

“Hullo, Jacob!” blared Sheppard’s voice suddenly across 
the room. “What are you doing over there, you rascal? 
Thought I shouldn’t see you, eh? Ah, you’re a deep one, 
you are! I daresay now you’ve made up your mind that 
that young woman is a princess in disguise. She isn’t. 
She’s just my step-daughter, and a very cheap article, I 
assure you, Jake, — very cheap indeed!” 

The roar of laughter that greeted this sally filled the 
room, drowning any further remarks. Sheppard stood in 
the centre, swaying a little, looking round on the assembled 
company with a facetious grin. 

Jake Bolton rose and went to him. He stood with him 
for a moment, and Maud, shivering in her corner, marvelled 
that he did not look mean and insignificant beside the other’s 
great bulk. She wondered what he said. It was only a 
few words, and they were not apparently uttered with much 
urgency. But Sheppard’s grin died away, and she fancied 
that for a moment — only for a moment — he looked a little 


The Unwilling Guest 41 

sheepish. Then he clapped a great hand upon Bolton’s 
shoulder. 

“All right. All right. It’s for you to make the running. 
Come along, ladies and gentlemen ! Let us feed ! ” 

There was a general move, and a tall, lanky young man 
with a white face and black hair that shone like varnish 
slouched up to Maud. 

“I don’t see why Bolton should have all the plums,’’ he 
said. “May I have the honour of conducting you to the 
supper table ? ” 

She was on her feet. She looked at him with a disdain 
so withering that the young man wilted visibly before her. 

“No offence meant, I’m sure,” he said, shuffling his 
feet. ‘ ‘ But I thought — as you were being so pally with J ake 
Bolton — you wouldn’t object to being pally with me.” 

Maud said nothing. She was in fact so quivering with 
rage that speech would have been difficult. 

A very stout elderly lady, with a neck and arms that 
were hardly distinguishable from the red silk dress she 
wore, sailed up to them. “Come, come. Miss!” she said, 
beaming good-temperedly upon Maud’s pale face. “We’re 
not standing on ceremony to-night. We’re all friends here. 
You won’t mind going in with my boy Tom, I’m sure. He’s 
considered quite the ladies’ man, I can assure you.” 

“Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Wright! Miss Brian is going in 
with me,” said Jake Bolton’s smooth voice behind her. 
“Tom, you git!” 

Somehow — before she knew it — the black-haired young 
man was gone from her path, and her hand lay trembling 
within Bolton’s arm. 

She did not utter a word, she could not. She felt choked. 

Jake Bolton said nothing either. He only piloted her 
through the crowd with the smile of the winner curving 
the corners of his mouth. 

They reached the dining-room, and people began to seat 


42 


The Hundredth Chance 


themselves around a long centre table. There was no 
formal arrangement, and some confusion ensued in conse- 
quence. 

“Fight it out among yourselves!” yelled Sheppard above 
the din of laughter and movement. “Make yourselves 
at home!” 

Bolton glanced round. “There’s a table for two in that 
alcove, ” he said. “ Shall we make for that ? ” 

“Anywhere!” she said desperately. 

He elbowed a way for her. The table was near a window, 
the alcove draped with curtains. He put her into a chair 
where she was screened from the eyes of those at the centre 
table. He seated himself opposite to her. 

“Don’t look so scared!” he said. 

She smiled at him faintly in silence. 

“I gather you don’t enjoy this sort of bear-fight,” he 
said. 

She remained silent. The man disconcerted her. She 
was burningly conscious that she had not been too discreet 
in taking him even so far into her confidence. 

He leaned slowly forward, fixing her with those relent- 
less, lynx-like eyes. “Miss Brian, ” he said, his voice very 
level, faultlessly distinct. “I’m rough, no doubt, but 
please believe I’m white!” 

She looked at him, startled, unhappy, not knowing what 
to say. 

He nodded, still watching her. “Don’t you forget it!” 
he said. “There are plenty of beasts in the world, but I’m 
not one of ’em. You’ll drink champagne, of course.” 

He got up to procure it, and Maud managed in the 
interval to recover some of her composure. 

When he came back, she mustered a smile and thanked 
him. 

“You look fagged out,” he said, as he filled her glass. 
“What have you been doing?” 


The Unwilling Guest 43 

“Getting straight in our new quarters here, ” she answered. 
“It takes some time.” 

“Where are your rooms?” he asked. 

She hesitated momentarily. “It is really only one 
room,” she said. “But it is a fine one. I have another 
little one upstairs; but it is a long way off. Of course I 
shall sleep downstairs with Bunny.” 

“ Do you always sleep with him?” he asked. 

She coloured a little. “Yes.” 

“ Is he a good sleeper?” He had moved round and was 
filling his own glass. 

She watched his steady hand with a touch of envy. She 
would have given much for as cool a nerve just then. 

“ Is he a good sleeper? ” He repeated the question as he 
set down the bottle. 

She answered it at once. “No; a very poor one.” 

“And you look after him night and day ? ” Bolton’s eyes 
suddenly comprehended her. “I guess that accounts for 
it, ” he said, in a tone of enlightenment. 

‘ ‘ For what ? ” She met his look haughtily, determined to 
hold her own. 

But he smiled and refused the contest. “For much,” 
he said. “Now, what will you eat? Lobster? That’s 
right. I want to see you started. What a filthy racket 
they are making! I hope it won’t upset your appetite 
any.” 

She had never felt less hungry in her life, but out of a 
queer sensation of gratitude she tried to eat what he put 
before her. He had certainly done his best to shield her from 
that objectionable crowd, but she was still by no means 
certain that she liked the man. He was too much inclined 
to take her friendship for granted, too ready to presume 
upon a very short acquaintance. And she was sure — 
quite sure now — that he had recognized her from the very 
first moment, down on the parade the night before. The 


44 


The Hundredth Chance 


knowledge was very disquieting. He was kind — oh, yes, 
he was kind. But she felt that he knew too much. 

And so a certain antagonism warred against her grati- 
tude, and prevented any gracious expression thereof. She 
only longed — oh, how desperately! — to flee away from this 
new and horrible world into which she had been so ruthlessly 
dragged and to see no more of its inhabitants for ever. 

Vain longing! Even then she knew, or shrewdly sus- 
pected, that her lot was to be cast in that same world 
for the rest of her mortal life. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE MAGICIAN 

‘ ‘ Maud ! I thought you were never coming ! ” 

Bunny’s face, pale and drawn, wearing the irritable 
frown so habitual to it, turned towards the opening door. 

“I have brought you a visitor,” his sister said. 

Her voice was low and nervous. She looked by no means 
sure of Bunny’s reception of the news. Behind her came 
Jake Bolton the trainer, alert and self-assured. It was 
quite evident that he had no doubts whatever upon the 
subject. His thick mat of chestnut hair shone like copper 
in the brilliant electric light, such hair as would have been 
a woman’s glory, but that Jake kept very closely cropped. 

“What on earth for?” began Bunny querulously; and 
then magically his face changed, and he smiled. “Hullo! 
You?” he said. 

Bolton came to his side and took the small, eager hand 
thrust out to him. “Yes, it’s me,” he said. “No objec- 
tion, I hope?” 

“ I should think not ! ” The boy’s face was glowing with 
pleasure. “Sit down!” he said. “Maud, get a chair!” 

Bolton turned sharply, found her already bringing one 
and took it swiftly from her. 

He sat down by Bunny’s side, and took the little thin 
hand back into his. “Do you know, I’ve been thinking a 
lot about you,” he said. 

Bunny was vastly flattered. He liked the grasp of the 
45 


46 


The Hundredth Chance 


strong fingers also, though he would not probably have 
tolerated such a thing from any but this stranger. 

“Yes, ” pursued Jake, in his soft, level voice. “ I reckon 
I’ve taken a fancy to you, little chap — I beg your pardon 
— Sir Bernard. How have you been to-day?” 

“Don’t call me that!” said Bunny, turning suddenly 
red. 

‘ ‘ What ? ” . Jake smiled upon him, his magic, kindly smile. 
“Am I to call you Bunny — ^like your sister — ^then?” 

“Yes. And you can call her Maud,” said Bunny auto- 
cratically. “ Can’t he, Maud ? ” 

Jake turned his head and looked at her. She was stand- 
ing before the fire, the red glow all about her, very slim, 
very graceful, very stately. She did not so much as glance 
at Jake, only bent a little towards the blaze so that he could 
not see her face. 

“I don’t think I dare,” said Jahe. 

“Maud!” Peremptorily Bunny’s voice accosted her. 
“ Come over here! Come and sit on my bed!” 

It was more of a command than an invitation. Maud 
straightened herself and turned. 

But as she did so, their visitor intervened. “ No, don’t ! ” 
he said. “Sit down right there. Miss Brian, in that easy- 
chair, and have a rest!” 

His voice was peremptory too, but in a different way. 
Bunny stared at him wide-eyed. 

Jake met the stare with an admonitory shake of the 
head. “ Guess Bunny’s not wanting you, ” he said. “ Don’t 
listen to anything he says!” 

Bunny’s mouth opened to protest, remained open for 
about five seconds, and finally he said, “All right, Maud. 
You can stay by the fire while we talk.” 

And Maud, much to her own surprise, sat down in the 
low chair on the hearth and leaned her aching head back 
upon the cushion. 


47 


The Magician 

She had her back to Bunny and his companion, and the 
soft murmur of the latter’s voice held nought disturbing. 
It seemed in fact to possess something of a soothing quality, 
for very soon her heavy eyelids began to droop and the 
voice to recede into ever growing distance. For a space 
she still heard it, dim and remote as the splash of the waves 
on the shore; then very softly it was blotted out. Her 
cares and her troubles all fell away from her. She sank 
into soundless billows of sleep. 

It was a perfectly dreamless repose, serene as a child’s 
and it seemed to last indefinitely. She lay in complete 
content, unconscious of all the world, lapped in peace and 
blissfully free from the goading anxiety that usually dis- 
turbed her rest. It was the calmest slumber she had 
known for many years. 

From it she awoke at length with a guilty start. The 
fall of a piece of coal had broken the happy spell. She 
sat up, to find herself in firelight only. 

Her first thought was for Bunny, and she turned in her 
chair and looked across the unfamiliar room. He was 
lying very still in the shadows. Softly she rose and stepped 
across to him. 

Yes, he was asleep also, lying among his pillows. The 
chair by his side was empty, the visitor vanished. 

Very cautiously she bent over him. He had been lying 
dressed outside the bed. Now — with a thrill of amazement 
she realized it— he was undressed and lying between the 
sheets. He was breathing very quietly, and his attitude 
was one of easy rest. Surely some magic had been at 
work! 

On a chest of drawers near stood a glass that had con- 
tained milk. He always had some hot milk last thing, but 
she had not procured it for him. She had in fact been won- 
dering how she would obtain it to-night. 

Another coal fell, and she crept back to replace it. Stoop- 


48 


The Hundredth Chance 


ing she caught sight of another glass in the fender, full 
of milk. It must have been there a long time, for it was 
barely warm. Clearly it had been intended for her. She 
put it to her lips and drank. 

Who could have put it there? Her mother? No; she 
was sure that her mother would have roused her from her 
sleep if she had entered. She was moreover quite incapable 
of getting Bunny to bed now that he had grown out of 
childhood. 

The house was very quiet. She wondered if the guests 
had all gone. The room was situated at the end of a long 
passage, so that the noise of the party had scarcely reached 
it. But the utter silence without as well as within made 
her think that it was very late. 

She dared not switch on the light, but as the fire burned 
up again she held her watch to the blaze. Half -past two ! 

In utter amazement she began to undress. 

There was no second bed in the room; only a horse-hair 
sofa that was far less comfortable than the chair by the 
fire. She lay down upon it, however, pulling over her an 
ancient fur travelling-rug belonging to her mother, and 
here she lay dozing and waking, turning over the mystery 
in her mind, while another quiet hour slipped away. 

Then there came a movement from Bunny, and she sat 
up. 

“Are you awake, Maud?’^ asked his voice out of the 
shadows. “ Has J ake gone ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, darling,” she made answer. “Are you wanting 
anything?” 

She was by his side with the words; she bent over him. 
He wanted his pillows rearranged, and when she had 
done it he said, “I say, when did you wake up?” 

“About an hour ago,” she said. 

He chuckled a little. “Weren’t you surprised to find 
me in bed?” 


49 


The Magician 

“Yes, I was,** she said. “How did you get there?** 

Bunny seemed to regard the matter as a joke. “That 
fellow Jake — he went over and looked at you, came back 
and said you were fast asleep, asked what I generally had 
done, and if he couldn’t do it for me. He managed very 
well and was jolly quick about it too. I^thought you would 
be sure to wake, but you didn’t. And when I was settled, 
he asked if I didn’t want anything, and I said, ‘Yes, hot 
milk*, and he crept off and got it. He brought a glass for 
you too. He stuck it in the fender. Have you had it?’’ 

“ Yes, ** Maud said. “ But Bunny, didn’t he hurt you at 
all ? You nearly always cry out when you’re lifted.** 

“I didn’t that time,’* said Bunny proudly. “I told him 
I should probably squeal, and he said if I so much as 
squeaked he’d throttle me. He’s a brick, do you know, 
Maud. And he seemed to know how to get hold of me 
without being told.’* 

Maud’s amazement was growing. The man must be a 
genius indeed to manage Bunny in that fashion. 

“After that,’* said Bunny, “he sat down by me and got 
hold of my hand and said, ‘Now I’m going to send you to 
sleep.* I told him I never slept the first part of the night, 
and he grinned and said, ‘You’ll be asleep in five minutes 
from now if you let yourself go.* And I said, ‘Rats!* 
And he said, ‘ Shut up 1 * So I did. And he held my hand 
tight and sat staring across the room like a mute till some- 
how he got all blurred up and then I suppose I v/ent to 
sleep. I never kpew when he went. Did you?’’ 

“No,” said Maud. She had an uncanny feeling that 
Jake had somehow left his influence behind him in the 
atmosphere. His personality seemed to dominate it still. 
She was sure he had meant to be kind, but a queer sense of 
antagonism made her resent his kindness. She did not 
like Bunny’s whole-hearted admiration. 

“He’s a brick,” the boy said again, “and do you know 


4 


50 


The Hundredth Chance 


he’s done almost everything under the sun? He’s been a 
sailor, and he’s dug for gold, and he’s kept a Californian 
store, and he’s been a cow-boy on a ranch. He says the 
last suited him best because he’s so keen on the wilds and 
horses. It was out in the wilds somewhere that Lord 
Saltash came on him and brought him home to be his 
trainer. But he’s British-born all the same. I knew he 
was that the first time I saw him.” 

He was evidently a paragon of all the virtues in Bunny’s 
estimation, and Maud did not attempt to express her own 
feelings, which were, in fact, somewhat complex. 

Very deep down in her woman’s soul a warning voice 
had begun to make itself heard, but she could not tell 
Bunny that. Scarcely even to herself dared she admit that 
the straight, free gaze of those red-brown eyes possessed 
the power to set her heart a-fluttering in wild rebellion 
like the wings of a captive bird. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE OFFER 

I N many respects the change from their lodgings up the 
hill to the Anchor Hotel by the fishing-quay was for 
the better, and as the days went on and winter drew near 
Maud realized this. Bunny’s room had a southern aspect, 
and it was only on dull days that they needed a fire before 
evening. It possessed a French window also, which was 
an immense advantage; for it was perfectly easy to wheel 
him out on to the stone verandah outside it, and here he 
would lie in his own sheltered comer for hours; watching 
the sea and the shore and the passers-by, and sometimes 
talking to the very infrequent visitors who came at that 
season to “ The Anchor.” 

He and Maud lived their lives apart from the rest of the 
establishment, an arrangement which Mrs. Sheppard de- 
plored although she knew it to be an eminently wise one. 
Her husband, who never lost an opportunity to revile the 
girl who always treated him with the same aloof distance 
of manner, bitterly resented the circumstance that so 
limited his chances of what he styled “taking her down a 
peg.” He hated her with the rancorous and cruel hatred of 
conscious inferiority, savagely repenting his undertaking to 
provide for her. They did not often clash because Maud 
steadfastly avoided him. And this also he resented, for 
he was in effect simply biding his time to drive her away. 
She was a perpetual thorn in his side, and he seized every 

51 


52 


The Hundredth Chance 


chance that presented itself of inflicting some minor hu- 
miliation upon her. His antipathy had become almost an 
obsession, and he never saw her without flinging some gib- 
ing taunt in her direction. 

And those taunts of his rankled deep. Maud’s feelings 
towards him were of a very deadly order. If she* had not 
avoided him, she knew that she could not have remained. 
But for Bunny’s sake she endured his insults when contact 
with him became inevitable. She could not be separated 
from Bunny, and she knew of no other haven. 

Towards Bunny, Sheppard displayed no ill feeling. He 
had small cause to do so, for the boy was kept rigorously 
out of his way, and his mother was more than willing to 
leave the entire care of him to Maud. In fact there were 
sometimes whole days on which she scarcely saw him. The 
change that Maud had foretold on her wedding-day had 
already begun in her. She had quitted her own world 
without a pang, and was sunning herself in the warmth of 
her husband’s rough devotion. As she herself expressed 
it, she was getting really fond of Giles, whose brutish affec- 
tion for her was patent to all. 

Maud suppressed a shudder whenever she encountered 
any evidence of it, and as a result he was always noisier and 
coarser in his demonstrations before her face of white dis- 
gust. What wonder that she rigidly avoided him and in- 
sisted upon taking all her meals with Bunny ? 

In' this way she avoided his loud-voiced friends also, — 
another frequent cause for offence! — all, that is, save one. 
That one was Jake Bolton; and, since Bunny had so de- 
creed it, this man came and went exactly as he chose. 

She never raised the smallest objection to his presence, 
but she certainly never welcomed him. In fact she gener- 
ally took advai^ge of his coming to leave Bunny for a 
space, and it even became a recognized thing between them 
that she should avail herself of the leisure thus provided 


The Offer 


53 


to run down to the shore for the brief recreation which 
was never obtainable in any other way. 

Very oftgn she would not return until after Jake’s de- 
parture, and so on the whole, though they met so frequently, 
she actually saw but little of him. He was Bunny’s pal, 
and — obedient to the inner warning — she was firmly 
determined that he should never become hers. 

He did not seem inclined to combat this determination, 
but on the other hand he never relinquished by a hair’s 
breadth the position he had taken up at the beginning of 
their acquaintance. It was impossible to snub him. He 
never heard a snub. He never advanced, and he never 
retreated. He simply stood firm, so that after a time her 
uneasiness began to die down almost in spite of her, and 
she even came to look upon him in a very guarded way as 
a friend in need. He could do anything in the world with 
Bunny, and though she was half-suspicious of his influence 
she could not deny that he invariably exercised it in the 
right direction. He had even begun to implant in Bunny 
a wholly novel and sometimes almost disconcerting con- 
sideration for herself. Bunny was more tractable just then 
than he had ever been before. It was the only bright spot 
in her sky. 

It was on an afternoon in late November that she went 
down to the shore during one of Jake Bolton’s visits to her 
brother, and watched the fishing-fleet come in through a 
blur of rain. The beach looked dank and sodden and there 
were trails of mist in the air. Dusk was just beginning to 
fall, and it would be a wet night. But the air blew in off the 
water sweet and Southerly, and it did her good to breath it. 

She walked the length of the parade twice, and finally, as 
the fishing-smacks dropped one by one into the harbour on 
the further side of the quay, turned homewards, feeling 
invigorated and considerably the happier for the brief 
exercise. 


54 


The Hundredth Chance 


She wondered if Jake meant to stay to tea. He did not 
often do so, only on the very rare occasions when she added 
her invitation to Bunny’s. She supposed she. would have 
to ask him to-day if she found him still there when she 
returned. But she hoped she would not. She liked him 
best when he was not there. 

Regretfully she turned her back upon the heaving waters, 
and crossed the road to the Anchor Hotel. It was growing 
rapidly dusk. 

She reached the entrance, and was stretching out a hand 
towards the swing-doors when one of them opened abruptly 
from within and Jake stepped out. He was smoking a 
cigarette, and he did not in the first moment perceive her. 
She drew back in an instinctive effort to escape notice. 

But he stopped short almost immediately and accosted 
her. 

“Ah! Is that you? I was just wondering where you 
were.” 

Her thoughts flew to Bunny. “Am I wanted?” she 
asked quickly. 

He checked her with a gesture. “ No, the lad’s all right. 
It’s I who want you. Can you spare me a minute ? ” 

It was impossible to refuse, but she did not yield 
graciously. Somehow she never could be gracious to 
Jake Bolton. 

“I ought to go in,” she said. “ It is getting late.” 

“ I shan’t keep you long, ” he said, and she noticed that it 
was plainly a foregone conclusion with him that she would 
grant him what he asked. 

She turned back into the misty darkness with a short 
sigh of impatience. 

“Walk to the end of the parade with me!” he said, and 
fell in beside her. 

Later she wondered why she did not lodge a more ener- 
getic protest, for it was beginning to rain in earnest ; but at 


the time it seemed inevitable that she should do as he 
desired. 

She re-crossed the road with him, and turned to walk to 
the nearest end of the parade. They approached the spot 
where he had once laid peremptory hands upon her and 
drawn her out of danger. It was as they neared it that 
he suddenly spoke. 

“ I am sorry to have brought you out again into the wet. 
Will you come into the shelter?” 

She acquiesced. The shelter was empty. She stepped 
within it and stood waiting. 

He took out his cigarette and after a moment dropped it 
and set his heel upon it. 

“I want to speak to you about your brother,” he said. 
“And, by the way, before I forget it, I’ve promised to 
trundle him up to the Stables next Sunday to show him the 
animals. You will come too, won’t you? I can give you 
tea at my house. It’s close by.” 

Maud’s eyes opened a little. The suggestion somewhat 
startled her, and she resented being startled. “You are 
very kind,” she said coldly. “But I don’t think we can 
either of us do that.” 

“ I am not in the least kind, ” said Jake. “And will you 
tell me why you are offended with me for suggesting it?” 

“I am not — offended,” she said, feeling herself grow 
uncomfortably hot over the assertion. “ But — I think you 
might have proposed this to me before mentioning it to 
Bunny.” 

“But what’s the matter with the proposal?” he said. 
“The boy was delighted with it.” 

“That may be,” Maud said; and then she paused, 
feeling suddenly that she was being absurdly unreasonable. 
She blushed still more hotly in the gloom, and became 
silent. 

Jake stretched out one steady finger and laid it on her 


56 


The Hundredth Chance 


arm. “Don’t take fright at nothing!” he said, in an 
admonitory tone. “ If you’re going to shy at this, I reckon 
you’ll kick up your heels, and bolt at my next suggestion.” 

She drew herself away from his touch, standing very 
erect. “Perhaps you would be wiser not to make it, ” she 
said. 

“Very likely,” agreed Jake. “But — as you object to 
my mentioning things to your brother first — I don’t see 
how you can refuse to listen.” 

This was unanswerable. She bit her lip. “I am listen- 
ing, ” she said. 

“And the answer is ‘ No, ’ whatever it is, ” rejoined Jake, 
with a whimsical note in his soft voice. “Say, Miss Brian, 
play fair!” 

She felt somewhat softened in spite of herself. “I have 
said I will listen, ” she said. 

“With an unbiassed mind?” he said. 

j“Of course.” She spoke impatiently; she wanted to get 
the interview over, and she more and more resented his 
attitude towards her. There was something of the superior 
male about him that grated on her nerves. 

“All right,” said Jake. “I’ll go ahead. If you will 
condescend to come up to my place on Sunday, I will show 
you a man — one of our jockeys — ^who was injured in just 
the same way that your brother is injured, and who is now 
as sound as I am. He was operated upon by an American 
doctor called Capper — one of the biggest surgeons in the 
world. It was a bit of an experiment, but it succeeded. 
Now what has been done once can be done again. I chance 
to know Capper, and he is coming to London next spring. 
He makes a speciality of spinal trouble. Won’t you let 
him try his hand on Bunny? There would be a certain 
amount of risk of course. But wouldn’t it be worth it? 
Say, wouldn’t it be worth it, to see that boy on his legs, 
living his life as it was meant to be lived instead of dragging 


The Offer 


57 


out a wretched existence that hardly deserves to be called 
life at all?” 

He stopped abruptly, as if realizing that he had suffered 
his eagerness to carry him away. But to Maud who had 
begun to listen in icy aloofness that same eagerness was as 
the kindling of a fire in a place of utter desolation. 

For the moment she forgot to be cold. “Oh, if it were 
only possible!” she said. “If it only could be!” 

“Why can’t it be?” said Jake. 

She came back with something of a shock to the con- 
sciousness of his personality. She drew back from the 
warmth that he had made her feel. 

“Because, ” she said frigidly, “doctors — great surgeons — 
don’t perform big operations for nothing.” 

“I don’t think Capper would charge an out-of-the-way 
amount if he did it for me, ” said Jake. 

“ Perhaps not.” Maud spoke in the dead tone of finality. 

He leaned slightly towards her. “Say, Miss Brian, 
aren’t you rather easily disheartened? Wouldn’t your 
people scrape together something for such a purpose?” 

“No,” she said. 

“Are you quite sure?” he urged. “Won’t you even 
ask ’em?” 

She turned from him. “It’s no good asking,” she said, 
her voice low and reluctant. “The only relation we 
possess who might help won’t even answer when I write 
to him.” 

“Why don’t you go and see him?” said Jake. “Put 
the thing before him! He couldn’t refuse.” 

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be any good,” she 
said, with dreary conviction. “Besides, I couldn’t get to 
Liverpool and back in a day, and I couldn’t leave Bunny for 
longer. And — in any case — I know — I know it wouldn’t 
be any good, ” she ended, with half-angry vehemence. 

“ I wish the little chap were my brother, ” said Jake. 


58 


The Hundredth Chance 


Maud was silent. Somehow her vehemence had upset 
her; she had an outrageous desire to cry. 

Jake was silent too for a few seconds; then abruptly he 
squared his shoulders and spoke with aggressive decision. 
“Miss Brian, a good friend is nearer than a dozen beastly 
relations. With your permission — I’ll see this thing 
through.’’ 

“Oh no, no!” she said quickly. “No, no!” 

“For the boy’s sake!” he said. 

“No!” she said again. 

There fell a sudden silence. Then, in an odd voice Jake 
said, “Bunny told me — only to-day — with pride — that 
there was nothing in the world that you wouldn’t do for 
him.” 

She made a sharp movement of protest. “ I can’t take — 
what I could never repay, ” she said, speaking almost below 
her breath. “Neither shall Bunny.” 

“There are more ways than one of paying a debt,” said 
Jake. 

He looked almost formidable standing there in the twi- 
light with his legs well apart and unabashed resolution in 
every line of his sturdy figure. 

She faced him with a sinking sense of her own inferior 
strength. His self-assertion seemed to weigh her down. 
She felt puny and insignificant before it. As usual she 
sought refuge in stately aloofness. She had no other 
weapon, and at least it covered the beating of her heart. 

“I am afraid I don’t understand you,” she said. 

“Shall I explain?” said Jake; and then, as she was silent: 
“ Can’t you see I’m making a bid for your friendship ? ” 

She froze at the effrontery of the words. 

“Oh yes,” said Jake. “I quite understand. I’m only 
tolerated for Bunny’s sake. Isn’t that so? You’re too 
proud to associate with a clod like me. But for all that — 
though you’ll never look at me— I’m not afraid to let you 


The Offer 


59 


know that I’ve taken a fancy to you. You’ve never 
contemplated such a fool idea as marriage with me, I 
know: but you go home and contemplate it right now! 
Ask yourself if you wouldn’t find a husband like me less 
nauseating than a step-father like Giles Sheppard! Ask 
yourself if the little chap wouldn’t stand a better chance 
all round if you brought him along to me! I reckon we’d 
make his life easier between us even if Capper couldn’t 
make him walk. He’s too heavy a burden for you to 
carry alone, my girl. You weren’t created for such a 
burden as that. Let me lend a hand! I give you my 
solemn oath I’ll be good to you both!” 

A tremor of passion ran through his last words, and his 
voice took a deeper note. Maud, upright and quivering, 
felt the force of the man like the blast of a tearing gale 
carrying all before it. She would have left him at the 
commencement of his speech, but he blocked the way. 
She stood imprisoned in a corner of the shelter, steadying 
herself against the woodwork, while the full strength 
of his individuality surged around her. She felt physi- 
cally exhausted, as though she had been trying to stand 
against a tremendous wind. 

Several seconds throbbed away ere she could trust herself 
to speak without faltering. Then: “ Please let me pass ! ” 
she said.- 

He stood back instantly and she was conscious of a 
lessening of that mysterious influence which had so over- 
whelmed her. 

“Are you angry — or what?” he said.' 

She gathered her strength, and stepped forth, though she 
was trembling from head to foot. 

“Yes, I am angry,” she said, forcing her voice to a 
certain measure of calmness notwithstanding. “I have 
never been so insulted in my life!” 

‘ ‘ Insulted ! ” He echoed the word in unfeigned astonish- 


6o 


The Hundredth Chance 


ment; then, as she would have left him, put a detaining 
hand upon her arm. “Say, Miss Brian! Since when 
has a proposal of marriage constituted an insult in your 
estimation?” 

He spoke with something of a drawl, but it compelled 
attention. She stopped, resisting the desire to shake 
herself free from his touch. 

“A proposal of marriage from you could be nothing 
else, ” she said very bitterly. “You take advantage of my 
position, but you know full well that we are not equals.” 

“ Oh yes, I know that, ” he said. “ But — is any man your 
equal?” 

“I meant socially of course,” she said, beginning to 
recover her composure and her dignity. 

“I see.” Jake’s voice was very level. “And that is 
why you are upset — angry?” 

“It is a very sufficient reason,” she said. 

“Yes, but is it — as things now are? There is another 
point of view to that problem. If you had been leading 
a happy, sheltered life in your own sphere — that might 
have been a reason for me to hold off. You might with 
justice have scorned my offer. But — as things are — as 
things are — ” he spoke with strong insistence. “Is it 
taking advantage of your position to want to deliver you 
from it? It’s a beastly position — it’s a humiliating posi- 
tion. And I gather you’ve no prospect of deliverance. 
Well, I offer you a way of escape. It mayn’t be the way 
you would choose, but — there are worse, many worse. I’m 
not a bad sort, and I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for that 
little brother of yours. Say, Miss Brian, do you despise 
me so badly that you can’t even give the idea your impartial 
consideration?” 

He spoke whimsically, but there was a rough dignity 
about him nevertheless which had an undeniable effect 
upon her. She could no longer spurn him with contempt, 


The Offer 6i 

though neither could she yield a single inch to his per- 
suasion. 

“It would be quite useless for me to consider it,” she 
said. “I am sorry if I was rude to you just now, but your 
suggestion rather took my breath away. Please under- 
stand that it is quite, quite impossible!” 

“All right,” he said. “Still you won’t dismiss it quite 
entirely from your mind? That is to say, you’ll hold it in 
reserve just in case a way of escape becomes essential to you. 
I shan’t break my heart about it, but neither shall I change 
my mind. The offer remains open day and night just in 
case the emergency might arise which would make you 
willing to avail yourself of it.” 

He took his hand from her arm, and she felt that the 
interview was over. 

Yet he walked beside her as she began to move away, 
and crossed the road again with her to the entrance of the 
hotel. 

“And one thing more,” he said, as they reached it. “I 
have no wish or intention to force myself upon you, so if — 
to please Bunny — you can bring yourself to accompany 
the pair of us on the Sunday expedition to see the stud, 
you need not be afraid that I shall attempt to take advan- 
tage of your position again.” ’ 

The colour flamed up in her face at the few, leisurely 
words. He seemed to possess the power of calling it up 
at will. 

She stood on the first step, looking down at him, un- 
certain whether to be haughty or kind. 

He moved close to her, and by the lamplight that streamed 
through the glass doors she saw his frank, disarming smile. 

“And look here!” he said. “Don’t fling cold water on 
that other scheme for Bunny that I broached to you, yet! 
You never know what may turn up.” 

The smile decided her. She held out her hand to him. 


62 


The Hundredth Chance 


“But, you know, I couldn’t — I really couldn’t — ” she said 
rather incoherently. 

He gave the hand a firm grip and released it. “No. 
All right. I understand. But think about it! And 
don’t run away with the idea that I planned it just for your 
sake! I’d like jolly well to be of use to you. But — in the 
main — it’s the lad I’m thinking of. You do the same! 
After all, it’s second nature with you to put him first, isn’t 
it?” 

“He always will come first, with me, ” she said. “But I 
couldn’t — I can’t — incur such an obligation — even for 
him.” 

“All right,” said Jake, unmoved. “Class it with the 
impossibles — but, all the same, think about it!” 

He was gone with the words, striding away down the 
street without a backward glance. 

Maud was left alone with the warm blood still in her 
cheeks and an odd feeling of uncertainty at her heart. 
She felt baffled and uneasy like a swimmer in deep waters, 
aware of a strong current but still not wholly at its mercy, 
nor wholly aware of its force and direction. She did not 
mean to let herself be drawn into that current. She hung 
on the edge of it, trying to strike out and avoid it. But all 
the time it drew her, it drew her. And — though she would 
not admit it even to herself — she knew it and was afraid. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE REAL MAN 

T hat Simday of their visit to the Burchester Stables 
was a marked 'day with Maud for the rest of her 

life. 

'The Stables were situated on the side of a splendid down 
about a mile from the sea. Lord Saltash’s estate stretched 
for miles around, and he practically owned the whole of 
Fairharbour. Burchester Castle was the name of the seat, 
an ancient pile dating from Saxon times that had belonged 
to the Burchester family since the days of the Tudors. 
Charlie Burchester had inherited it from his uncle five 
years before; but he did not live in it. He had occasional 
wild house-parties there, especially for the event of the 
Graydown Races. And he sometimes spent a night or 
two when the mood took him to visit the stud. But for 
the most part the house stood in empty grandeur, its rooms 
shuttered and shrouded, its stately gardens deserted save 
for the gardeners who tended them. 

Exquisite gardens they were. Maud had a glimpse of 
them from the height of the down — terraced gardens with 
marble steps and glistening fountains, yew-walks, darkly 
mysterious, quaintly fashioned, pines that rustled and 
whispered together. The house was securely hidden from 
view among its trees. 

“ It used to be a nunnery, ” said Jake. “ Its inhabitants 
had a chaste objection to publicity. It’s an interesting old 

63 


64 


The Hundredth Chance 


place, about a mile from the Stables. I’d like to show it to 
you some time. YoU’d enjoy it.” 

“Not to-day,” said Bunny quickly. 

Jake smiled at his tone. “No, not to-day, lad. We’ll 
go and see the animals to-day.” 

He had brought them up the long, winding private road 
which, though smooth enough, was a continual ascent. 
Maud had wanted to help with the invalid-chair, but he 
had steadily refused any assistance. She marvelled at the 
evident ease with which he had accomplished the journey, 
never hurrying, never halting, not even needing to pause for 
breath, untiring as a wild animal in its native haunts. 
She remembered the nickname he bore on the Turf, and 
reflected that it fitted him in more than one respect. He 
was so supple, so tough, so sure. 

Suddenly those bright eyes flashed round on her. “ Say, 
you’re tired,” he said, in his queer, lilting voice. “We’ll 
have tea first.” 

“ No ! ” cried Bunny on the instant. “We’ll do the Stables 
first, Jake. It’s not time for tea. Besides, tea can wait.” 

Jake’s brown hand came over the back of the chair and 
filliped the boy’s cheek. “Shut up, my son!” said Jake. 

Maud stared at the action. Bunny turned scarlet. 

Jake unconcernedly continued his easy progress. ‘ ‘ Reck- 
on the animals won’t die if we don’t inspect ’em till after 
tea,” he said. “What’s your idea. Miss Brian?” 

“If Bunny wishes to go straight to thje Stables — ” she 
began. 

He interrupted. “ Bunny has changed his mind. Ain’t 
that so. Bunny?” 

“ I don’t care, ” said Bunny rather sullenly. 

“All right then, ” said Jake. “Tea first 1 ” 

He wheeled the chair into a great gateway that led into 
a wide stone courtyard. White-washed stables were on 
each side of them and at regular intervals large green tubs 


The Real Man 65 

containing miniature fir-trees. At the further end of the 
courtyard stood a square, white-washed house. 

“That’s my shanty,’’ said Jake. 

It was a very plain building; in former days it had been 
a farm. There was a white railing in front and a small 
white gate flanked by another pair of toy firs. The whole 
effect was one of prim cleanliness.. 

“ There’s a bit of garden at the back, ’’ said Jake. “And 
a summer-house — quite a decent little summer-house — that 
looks right away to the sea. Now, Bunny lad, there’s a 
comfortable sofa inside for you. Think I can carry you 
in?” 

“Can’t you take in the chair?” Maud asked nervously. 

Jake looked at her. “Oh yes, I can. But the passage 
is a bit narrow. It’s not very easy to turn.” 

“ Of course he can carry me, Maud. Let him carry me ! ” 
broke in Bunny, in an aggrieved tone. “You make such a 
stupid fuss always.” 

Jake had thrown open the door of his home. “You go 
in. Miss Brian!” he said. “Turn to the right at the end 
of the passage, and it’s the door facing you.” 

She went in reluctantly. The passage was small and 
dark, oak-panelled, low-ceiled. 

“Go right in!” said Jake. 

She did not want to turn her back on Bunny, but she 
knew that the boy would resent any lingering on her part. 
She passed down the passage and turned as Jake had 
directed. 

The door that 'faced her stood open, and she entered a 
long, low room, oak-panelled like the passage, with a deep, 
old-fashioned fireplace in which burned a cheery wood fire. 
Two windows, diamond-paned, and a door with the upper 
panels of glass occupied the whole of the further side of the 
room, and the western sunshine slanting in threw great 
bars of gold across the low window-seats, 
s 


66 


The Hundredth Chance 


Tea had been set on a table in the middle of the room, to 
the comer of which a sofa had been drawn. There were 
bed-pillows as well as cushions on the sofa. Evidently 
Jake had ransacked the house to provide comfort for 
Bunny. 

Maud stood just within the doorway listening, dreading 
to hear the indignant outcry that generally attended any 
movement of the poor little crippled body. But she heard 
nothing beyond Jake’s voice murmuring unintelligibly, 
and in a few seconds the steady tread of his feet as he entered 
the house. 

Then, while she stood listening, the feet drew near and. 
there came a pleased chuckle from Bunny. Jake came 
squarely in, carrying him like an infant, and deposited 
him with infinite care among the cushions that Maud 
hastily adjusted for his reception. 

“There you are, my son,” he said. “Make yourself as 
much at home as you can!” 

Bunny looked about him with keen interest. “Oh, I 
say, what a jolly room! What a ripping room! You’re 
beastly lucky to live here, Jake.” 

“Oh, yes, it’s a decent little crib,” said Jake. “Those 
doorsteps were just made for an evening pipe.” 

He indicated the closed glass-panelled door. Maud 
went to it and found that the ground sloped sharply away 
from this side of the house, necessitating a flight of several 
steps. They led down into a sunny space that was more 
orchard than garden, — fruit-trees and grass spreading 
down the side of the hill towards the magic, pine-screened 
grounds of Burchester Castle. 

Jake came and stood beside her for a moment. He was 
being studiously impersonal that day, an attitude which 
curiously caused her more of uneasiness than relief. 

“ The arbour is at the end by those apple-trees, ” he said. 
“You can just see the roof from here. It looks over the 


The Real Man 


67 


field where we train. It’s sport to watch the youngsters 
learning to run. Lord Saltash calls it the grand stand.” 

“Do you know Lord Saltash?” broke in Bunny. “He 
used to be a great pal of ours once.” 

“Oh, that was years ago~in London,” said Maud 
quickly. No doubt he has quite forgotten our existence 
by this time.” 

She spoke with unwitting sharpness, hotly aware that the 
lynx-like eyes of her host were upon her. 

Bunny took instant offence. “I’m sure it wasn’t years 
ago, Maud; and you know it wasn’t. It isn’t more than 
two since we saw him last — if that. As to forgetting all 
about us, that isn’t very likely, considering the mother was 
one of his bad debts.” 

“Bunny!” Maud began in rare anger. 

But in the same moment Jake swung calmly round. 
“Say, Bunny, do you like shrimps?” he asked. He moved 
to Bunny’s side and stood looking down at him. “I got 
some in case. Miss Brian, I hope shrimps are good for 
him, are they?” 

“She doesn’t know,” said Bunny irritably. “What’s 
the good of asking her? Of course I like shrimps! Aren’t 
we going to begin soon? I want to go and see the horses.” 

“You seem to be in an all-fired hurry,” observed Jake. 
“Left your manners behind, haven’t you?” He took 
out his watch. “Half-past three! All right, my son. 
We’ll go at four. Miss Brian, do you mind pouring out?” 

He set a chair for her facing the window, and sat down 
himself next to Bunny. 

It seemed to Maud that, seated there in his own house, 
she saw him under a new aspect. He played the host 
with ability and no small amount of tact. 

He talked mainly about the stud, interesting her in a 
subject which she had never before viewed at close quarters. 
He described various events in which some of his charges 


68 


The Hundredth Chance 


had won distinction, and presently, to Bunny’s keen delight, 
he began a brief but stirring description of an attempt to 
tamper with one of the animals two summers before on the 
eve of one of the Gray down Races. Some inkling of the 
intended attempt had reached him, and he himself had 
lain in wait to frustrate it. 

‘'But how?” cried Bunny breathlessly. 

“I decided to spend the night in the loose-box,” said 
Jake. “There’s no hardship in sleeping alongside a good 
horse. I’ve done it many a time. I ^wasn’t so intimate 
with Lord Saltash then as I am now, but I knew enough 
not to be altogether surprised when he came sliding into the 
stable-yard a little after midnight in a two-seated car and 
made straight for the loose-box where I was. The top 
half of the door was ajar, and there was a dim lamp burning 
in the yard, but his head-lights showed up everything like 
day. He pushed the top half right back and leaned his 
arms on the lower and said, ‘That you, Bolton?’ I got up 
and went to him. There was no one else about. ‘I’ve put 
myself in charge this trip,’ I told him. ‘You needn’t be 
nervous.’ He grinned in a sickly sort of fashion and said, 
‘I am nervous — deuced nervous, and I’ll tell you why. 
If that brute runs to-morrow I’m a ruined man.’ And 
then he started jawing about some fool wager he’d made, 
said he was under the thumb of some rascally booky, and 
actually began to try and talk me into spoiling the animal’s 
chances.” 

Jake paused. He was looking at Maud as if he expected 
something. 

She looked back at him, her head very high, her eyes 
shining defiantly bright. “Lord Saltash has a double 
apparently?” she said. 

“ Now, that’s real clever of you!” said Jake, with a smile. 
“Yes, that is the key to the mystery, and I soon grasped^t. 
He offered me a large sum of money to prevent Pedro run- 


The Real Man 


69 


ning. Pedro was listening to the transaction with his 
head on my shoulder. I said yes to everything, and then 
I suggested that we should settle the details outside where 
there was no chance of witnesses. He agreed to that, and 
I picked up my whip and got into his car after him, and we 
slipped out and ran about half-a-mile into the Park where 
I stopped him.” 

Jake paused again, still looking expectantly at the girl 
facing him. She was flushed but evidently not greatly 
moved. 

“What a thrilling recital!” she said. 

And, “Go on!” urged Bunny impatiently. 

Jake laughed a little. “I felt rather a skunk myself. 
He was so sweetly unsuspicious, till I used the cowboy 
clutch on him and tied up his arms in his own coat. That 
opened his eyes, but it was a bit too late. He was in for a 
cowhiding, and he realized it, scarcely showed fight, in 
fact. I didn’t let him off on that account, and I don’t 
suppose he has forgotten it to this day. I didn’t quite flay 
him, but I made him feel some.” 

“And you let him go afterwards?” questioned Bunny. 

“Yes, I let him go.” Jake took up his cup and drank in a 
contemplative fashion. “After that,” he said, in his slow 
way, “I went back to Pedro, and we finished the night 
together. But — I don’t know whether having his rest 
disturbed upset his nerves any — he only managed to come 
in second after all.” 

“And Lord Saltash?” said Maud abruptly. “Did you 
ever tell him what had happened?” 

“Oh yes, ” said Jake. “I told him the following evening, 
and he laughed in his jolly way and said, ‘Well, I’m glad 
you weren’t taken in, but I’m glad too that you let the poor 
devil go. A leathering from you couldn’t have been any 
such joke.’ It wasn’t,” added Jake grimly. “It was as 
ufriike a joke as a blue pill is unlike raspberry jam.” 


70 


The Hundredth Chance 


“But what became of the real man?” questioned Bunny. 
“Did he get clean away?” 

“Clean away,” said Jake. “And now — ^if you're ready 
— we’ll go and see the hero of that episode.” 

“Who was the hero? ” asked Maud, with a hint of sarcasm 
as she rose. 

He looked at her with a faint smile. “Why, Dom 
Pedro, of course,” he said. “Come along and make his 
acquaintance!” 


CHAPTER X 


THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY 

I T was among the horses that Maud at length saw Jake 
Bolton in his true element. They were all plainly 
very dear to his heart. He introduced them as friends. 
His pockets were stuffed with sugar which both she and 
Bunny helped to distribute, and not till dusk came upon 
them did they realize the lateness of the hour. 

It was at the last minute that Jake suddenly summoned 
a little man who was lounging in the gateway. “Here, 
Sam! I’ve been telling the lady about your tumble and 
how they put you together again. It interested her.” 

Sam approached with -a sheepish grin. “I thought I 
was a goner,” he said. “But Mr. Bolton — ” he looked at 
Jake and his grin widened — “he’s one of the Never-say- 
die sort. And the Yankee doctor, well, he was a regular 
knock-out, he was. Mended me as clean — well, there, you 
wouldn’t never have known I’d had a smash.” 

One eye wandered down to Bunny in his long chair as he 
spoke; but he discreetly refrained from comment, and it 
was Bunny who eagerly broke in with: “What happened 
to you? Was it your spine? Let’s hear!” 

Sam was only too willing to oblige. He settled down to 
his story like a horse into its stride, and for nearly a quarter 
of an hour Maud stood listening to the account of the 
miracle which, according to Sam Vickers, the great American 
doctor had performed. 


71 


72 


The Hundredth Chance 


Bunny drank it all in with feverish avidity. Maud did 
not like to watch his face. The look it wore went to her 
heart. 

She did not want to glance at Jake either though after 
a time she felt impelled to do so. His eyes were fixed upon 
Bunny, but on the instant they came straight to hers as if 
she had spoken. She avoided them instinctively, but she 
felt them none the less, as though a dazzling searchlight 
had suddenly and mercilessly been turned upon her, piercing 
straight to her soul. 

It was soon after this that he quietly intervened to put 
an end to Sam’s reminiscences. It was growing late, 
and they ought to be moving. 

Maud agreed; Bunny protested, and was calmly over- 
ruled by Jake. They started back through a pearly grey- 
ness of dusk that heralded the rising of the moon. They 
spoke but little as they went. Bunny seemed suddenly 
tired, and it did not apparently occur to either of his com- 
panions- to attempt to make conversation. 

Only, as they descended the winding road that led down 
to Fairharbour and a sudden clamour of church-bells arose 
through' the evening mist, Jake glanced again at the girl 
who was walking rather wearily by Bunny’s side, and said, 
“Vvouldn’t you like to go to Church now? I’ll see to the 
youngster.” 

She shook her head. “Thank you very much; I don’t 
think so.” 

“Oh, go on, Maud!” exclaimed Bunny, emerging from 
his reverie. “I don’t want you if Jake will stay. I’d 
sooner have Jake. He doesn’t fuss like you.” 

“I’ll get him to bed,” Jake went on, as if he had not 
spoken. “You can trust me to do that, you know. I^ 
won’t let him talk too much either. Say, Miss Brian, it’s 
a good offer; you’d better close with it.” 

She heard the smile in the words; and because of it 


73 


The Head of the Family 

she found she could not refuse. “But I don’t like to give 
you so much trouble,” she said. 

“You give me pleasure,” he answered simply. 

At the gate of the churchyard he stopped. “I’ll say 
good-bye, ” he said. “But don’t hurry back! I shall stay 
as long as I am wanted.” 

She knew that she could rely upon him in that respect 
as upon no one else in the world. She gave him her hand 
with another low word of thanks. 

“May I walk to the door with you?” he said, and drew 
Bunny’s chair to one side. 

It would have been churlish to refuse. She suffered 
him in silence. 

The church was on an eminence that overlooked the 
harbour. Reaching the porch, the whole wide view of 
open sea lay spread before them, flooded in moonlight. 
The clanging bells above them had sunk to stillness. A 
peace that seemed unearthly wrapped them round. They 
stood for the moment quite alone, gazing out to the far, 
dim sky-line. 

And suddenly Maud heard the beating of her heart in the 
silence, and was conscious of an overwhelming sense of doom. 

With an effort that seemed to tear at the very founda- 
tions of her being, she turned and walked down a narrow 
path between the tombstones. He followed her till in 
breathless agitation she turned again. 

“Mr. Bolton!” 

Her voice was no more than a whisper. She was thankful 
that her face was in shadow. 

He stood silently, his eyes, alert and bright, fixed in- 
tently upon her. 

“I must ask you,” she said, “ — I must beg you — to 
regard what I said the other day as final. If I am friendly 
with you, I want you to understand that it is solely for 
Bunny’s sake — no other reason.” 


74 


The Hundredth Chance 


‘‘That is understood,” said Jake. 

She drew the quick breath of one seeking relief. “Then 
you will forget that — that impossible notion? You will 
let me forget it too?” 

“I shan’t remind you of it, ” said Jake. 

“And you will forget it yourself?” she insisted. 

He lowered his eyes suddenly, and it was as if a light had 
unexpectedly gone out. She waited in the dark with a 
beating heart. 

And then with a great clash the bells broke out over- 
head and further speech became impossible. Jake wheeled 
without warning, and walked away. 

She stood and watched him go, still with that sense of 
coming fate upon her. Her heart was leaping wildly like 
a chained thing seeking to escape. 

As for Jake, he rejoined Bunny and squarely resumed the 
journey back to the town, without the smallest sign of 
discomposure. 

He seemed somewhat absent, however, trudging along in 
almost unbroken silence; and it was not until he laid the 
boy down at length in his own room that he said, “Now, look 
here, youngster! If you can’t be decently civil to your 
sister, I’ve done with you. Understand?” 

Bunny turned impulsively and buried his face in Jake’s 
sleeve. “All right. Don’t jaw!” he begged in muffled 
accents. 

Jake remained unmoved. “I’ve been wanting to punch 
your head most of the afternoon,” he remarked severely. 

“You can do it now if you like,” muttered Bunny, bur- 
rowing a little deeper. 

Jake did not respond to the invitation. “Why can’t 
you behave yourself anyway?” he said. 

He settled Bunny’s pillows with a sure hand, and laid him 
gently back upon them. But Bunny clung to him still. 

“You aren’t really savage with me, Jake?” he said. 


The Head of the Family 75 

“All right. I’m not, ’’ said Jake. “But I won't have it 
all the same ; savvy ? ’ ’ 

He put his hand for a moment on Bunny’s head and 
rumpled the dark hair. Bunny’s lips quivered unexpectedly. 

“It’s so — beastly — being managed always by women,’’ 
he said. 

“You don’t know when you’re lucky, ’’ said Jake. 

Bunny’s emotion passed. He looked at his friend 
shrewdly. ‘ ‘ I suppose you’re in love with her, ’ ’ he remarked 
after a moment. 

Jake’s eyes met his instantly and uncompromisingly. 
“Well?’’ he said. 

“Nothing,’’ said Bunny. “Of course she’s my sister.’’ 

“And so you think you’re entitled to a voice in the 
matter?’’ Jake’s tone was strictly practical. 

Bunny’s fingers slipped into his. “I’m the head of the 
family, you know, Jake,’’ he said. 

The man’s face softened to a smile. “Yes, I reckon 
that’s so,’’ he said. “Well? What has the head of the 
family to say to the notion?’’ 

Bunny turned rather red. “You see, — you’re not a 
mister, are you?’’ he said. 

“Not a gentleman, you mean?’’ suggested Jake. 

Bunny’s uneasiness increased. He squeezed Jake’s hand 
very hard in silence. 

“All right, little chap,’’ said Jake. “Don’t agitate 
yourself! I’m not what you call a gentleman, — not even 
a first-class imitation. Let’s go on from there! Any 
other ob j ections ? ’ ’ 

“I don’t want to be a cad, Jake!’’ burst from Bunny. 
“But you know — you know — she might have done a lot 
better for herself. She might have married Charlie Bur- 
chester.’’ 

“Who?’’ said Jake. 

“Lord Saltash,’’ explained Bunny. “We thought— 


76 


The Hundredth Chance 


everyone thought — five years ago — that they v/ere going to 
get married. He was awfully keen on her, and she of course 
was in love with him. And then there was that row with 
the Cressadys. Lady Cressady got him into a mess, and 
Sir Philip always was an obnoxious beast. And afterv/ards 
Charlie Burchester sheered off and went abroad. He 
came back after he succeeded, but Maud — she’s awfully 
proud, you know, — she wouldn’t look at him, vows she 
never will again — though I’m not so sure she won’t. He’s 
sure to come back some day. He’s such a rattling good 
sort, and he’s jolly fond of her.” 

“And the rest,” said Jake drily. 

“No, really, Jake, he isn’t a rotter. He’s an awfully 
nice chap. You’d say so if you really knew him.” 

“ I do know him, ” said Jake. 

“And you don’t like him?” Bunny’s eyes opened wide 
in astonishment. 

“Yes, I like him.” Jake’s tone was enigmatical. “But 
I shouldn’t call him a marrying man. Anyway, he won’t 
marry your sister, so you can make up your mind to that ! 
Any other gentlemen in the running?” 

“You couldn’t prevent their being married if — if Maud 
changed her mind, ” said Bunny. 

. Jake smiled. “Anyone else?” he persisted. 

“No, no one. She never sees anybody now.” 

“Except me, ” said Jake. “And I’m not genteel enough, 
hey?” 

“You’re a brick!” said Bunny with enthusiasm. “But, 
you know, women don’t see that sort of thing. They only 
care about whether a man opens the door for ’em or takes 
off his glove to shake hands.” 

Jake broke into a laugh. “Say, sonny, what a thundering 
lot you know about women!” he said. “Anyway, I con- 
clude I am right in surmising that you personally could 
swallow me as a brother-in-law?” 


77 


The Head of the Family 

Bunny’s eyes began to shine. '‘You’re the best fellow I 
know,” he said.' “If — if it weren’t for Lord Saltash, I 
wouldn’t say a word!” 

“Well,” said Jake very deliberately, “I refuse to 
be warned off on his account. That’s understood, is 
it?” 

Bunny hesitated. The red-brown eyes were looking 
full and unwaveringly into his. “I’m not thinking of 
myself, Jake,” he said, with sudden pleading. 

Jake’s hand closed squarely upon his. “All right, old 
chap, I know; and I like you for it. But I’m taking odds. 
It’s ninety-nine to one. If I win on the hundredth chance, 
you’ll take it like a sport?” 

Bunny’s hand returned his grip with all the strength at 
his command. He was silent for a moment or two; then, 
impulsively: “I say, Jake,” he said, “ — you — you’re such 
a sport yourself I I think I’ll back you after all.” 

“Right 01” said Jake. “You won’t be sorry.” 

He dismissed the subject then with obvious intention, 
and Bunny seemed relieved to let it go. He turned the 
conversation to Sam Vickers, asking endless questions 
regarding the American doctor and his miracles. 

“I wish he’d come and have a look at me, Jake,” he 
said wistfully at length. 

“Thought you didn’t like doctors,” said Jake. 

“ Oh, a man like that is different. I’d put up with a man 
like that,” said Bunny, with a sigh. 

“You might have to put up with more than you bar- 
gained for, ” said Jake. 

Bunny moved his head wearily on the pillow. “I don’t 
think anything could be worse than this, ” he said. 

“I’m glad to hear you say so,” said Jake, with sudden 
force; and then, pulling himself up as suddenly, “No, we 
won’t get talking on that subject. Capper’s in America, 
and you’ve got to sleep to-night. But you keep a stiff 


78 


The Hundredth Chance 


tipper lip, old chap! I'm in with you from start to finish. 
Maybe, some day, we’ll work a change.” 

“You’re no end of a trump! ” said Bunny with tears in 
his eyes. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE DECLARATION OF WAR 

F or three weeks after that Sunday visit to Jake’s home, 
life went on as usual, and a certain measure of tran- 
quillity returned to Maud. 

She found herself able to meet the man without any show 
of embarrassment, and, finding him absolutely normal 
in his behaviour towards her, she began to feel a greater 
confidence in his presence. He had promised that he 
would not force himself upon her, and it was evident that 
he had every intention of keeping his word. That he 
might by imperceptible degrees draw nearer to her, become 
more intimate, was a possibility that for a time troubled 
her; but he was so absolutely considerate in all his dealings 
with her that this fear of hers at length died away. If he 
were playing a waiting game he did it with a patience 
so consummate that his tactics were wholly hidden from 
her. He had to all appearances accepted her decision as 
final, and put the notion away as impracticable. 

Christmas was drawing near, and several visitors had 
already arrived. There was generally a short season at 
Christmas, during v/hich the Anchor Hotel had its regular 
patrons. Its landlord was in an extremely variable state of 
mind; sometimes aggressive, sometimes jovial, frequently 
not v/holly sober. Maud avoided all contact with him 
with rigorous persistence, her mother’s protests notwith- 
standing. 

' 79 


I 


8o 


The Hundredth Chance 


“He can’t be civil to me,” she said, “and he shall not 
have the opportunity of being anything else.” 

And no persuasion could move her from this attitude. 
Mrs. Sheppard was obliged reluctantly to abandon the 
attempt. She herself was seldom out of favour with her 
husband, whatever his condition, and that after all was 
what mattered most. 

But the state of affairs was such as was almost bound 
to lead to a climax sooner or later. Giles Sheppard’s 
hectoring mood was not of the sort to be satisfied for long 
with passive avoidance. Every glimpse he had of the 
girl, who ate his bread but disdained to do so in his company 
or the company of his friends, inflamed him the more hotly 
against her. It needed but a pretext to set his wrath ablaze, 
and a pretext was not far to seek. 

One day about a week before Christmas he unexpectedly 
presented himself at the door of Bunny’s room. 

The weather was damp and raw, and a cheerful fire 
burned there. Bunny was lying among pillows on the 
sofa. He had had a bad night, and his face, as he turned 
it to the intruder, was white and drawn. 

“What on earth — ” he began querulously. 

Sheppard entered with arrogance, leaving the door 
wide open behind him. “Look here!” he said harshly. 
“You’ve got to turn out of this. The room is wanted.” 

Maud, who was dusting the room as was her daily custom, 
turned swiftly round with something of the movement of a 
tigress. Her face was pale also. She had slept even less 
than Bunny the previous night. Her blue eyes shone like 
two flames under her knitted brows. 

“What do you mean?” she said. 

He looked at her with insult in his eyes. “I mean just 
that, my fine madam,” he said. “This room is wanted. 
The boy will have to go with the rest of the lumber— at the 
top of the house.” 


The Declaration of War 


8i 


It was brutally spoken, but the brutality was aimed at 
her, not Bunny. Maud realized that fact, and curbed 
her resentment. She could endure — or so she fancied — his 
personal hostility with fortitude. But his announcement 
was sufficiently disquieting in itself. 

“I understood that we were not to be disturbed at any 
time, ” she said, meeting his look with that icy pride of hers 
that was the only weapon at her command. “Surely some 
other arrangement can be made?” 

Sheppard growled out a strangled oath ; she always made 
him feel at a disadvantage, this slip of a girl whom he could 
have picked up with one hand had he chosen. 

“I tell you, this room is wanted,” he.reiterated stormily. 
“You’d better clear out at once.” 

“Bunny can’t possibly be moved to-day,” Maud said 
quickly and decidedly. “He is in pain. Can’t you see 
for yourself how impossible it is? I am quite sure no 
visitor who knew the facts of the case would wish to turn 
him out.” 

Sheppard stamped a furious foot. He was getting up 
his fury; and suddenly she saw that he had been drinking. 
The knowledge came upon her in a flash of understanding, 
and with it a disgust so complete that it overwhelmed every 
other , consideration . 

She pointed to the door. “ Go ! ” she said, in tense, frozen 
accents. “Go at once! How dare you come in here in 
this state?” 

Before her withering disdain he drew back, as it were 
involuntarily. He even half turned to obey. Then, 
suddenly some devil prompted him, and he swung back 
again. With one gigantic stride he reached the sofa; and 
before either brother or sister knew what he intended to do 
he had roughly seized upon the boy’s slight body and lifted 
it in his great arms. 

Bunny’s agonized outcry at the action mingled with his 
6 


82 


The Hundredth Chance 


sister’s, but it ceased almost immediately. He collapsed 
in the giant grip like an empty sack, and Sheppard, now- 
wrought to a blind fury that had no thought for conse- 
quences, carried him from the room and along the passage 
to the stairs, utterly unheeding the fact that he had fainted. 

Maud, nearly beside herself, went with him, striving to 
support the limp body where long experience had taught 
her support was needed. They went up the stairs so, flight 
after flight, Sheppard savage and stubborn, the girl in a 
dumb agony of anxiety, seeking only to relieve the dreadful 
strain that had bereft Bunny of his senses. 

They reached at length a room at the top of the house, 
a bare garret of a place with sloping ceiling and uncarpeted 
floor. There was a bed under the skylight, and on this the 
man deposited his burden. 

Then he turned and looked at Maud with eyes of cruel 
malevolence. “This is good enough for you and yours,” 
he said. 

Over Bunny’s body she flung her fruitless defiance. 
“You drunken brute ! ’ ’ she said. “You loathsome coward ! 
You hateful, tipsy bully!” 

The words pierced him like the stabs of a dagger too 
swift to evade. He was sober enough to be cowed. 

From the door he looked back at her, where she stood 
at the bedside, upright, quivering, a dart-like creature full of 
menace despite her delicacy of form and fibre. Again he 
knew himself to be at a disadvantage. He had not drunk 
enough to be intrepid. Swearing and malignant, he with- 
drew like a savage beast. But as he went, the madness of 
hatred rose in a swirl to his brain. She had defied him, 
had she? Her bitter words rang again and again in his 
ears. She had proclaimed him a drunkard, a coward, a 
bully! And she thought he would put up with it. Did 
she? Did she? Thought she could insult him with 
impunity in his own house! Thought he would tamely 


The Declaration of War 


83 


endure her impertinences for all time! He ground his 
teeth as he went down to the bar. He would have a 
reckoning with her presently. Yes, there should be a 
reckoning. He had borne with her too long — too long! 
Now matters had come to a head. She would either have 
to humble herself or go. 

He had tried to be patient. He had hoped that Jake 
Bolton would soon relieve him of the unwelcome burden 
he had taken upon himself. Jake could tame her; he was 
quite sure of that. But Jake seemed to be making no 
headway. He had even begun to wonder lately if Jake 
meant business after all. 

In any case he was at the end of his patience; and when 
his wife came to him with tears to remonstrate on behalf 
of poor little Bunny he hardened himself against her and 
refused to discuss the subject. 

As for Maud, she spent the rest of the day in trying 
to make Bunny’s new quarters habitable. She hoped 
with all her heart that Jake would come in the evening so 
that they could move him into the room she occupied, a 
floor lower, which had at least a fireplace. But for once 
Jake disappointed her, and so the whole day passed in 
severe pain for Bunny and vexation of spirit for her. 

Towards evening to her relief he began to doze. She 
watched beside him anxiously. He had been very plucky, 
displaying an odd protective attitude towards herself that 
had gone to her heart; but she knew that at times he had 
suffered intensely and the fact had been almost more than 
she could bear. She knew that it would be days before he 
would shake off the effects of the rough handling he had 
received, and she dreaded the future with a foreboding that 
made her feel physically sick. 

Now that Sheppard’s animosity had developed into active 
hostility, she knew that the situation could not last much 
longer, but how to escape it remained a problem unsolved. 


84 


The Hundredth Chance 


Her uncle had made no reply to her letter. She could not 
write to him again. And there was no one else to whom 
she could appeal. Alone, she could have faced the world 
and somehow made a way for herself; but with Bunny — 
She clenched her hands in impotent anguish. There 
was only one person in the world willing to lift the burden 
from her, only one person besides herself who really cared 
for Bunny. She suddenly began to tremble. That sense 
of approaching doom was upon her again. The current 
had caught her surely, surely, and was whirling her away. 

Bunny stirred — as though somehow caught in the net 
of her emotions — stirred and came out of uneasy slumber. 

“I say, Maud!” 

‘ ‘ What is it, darling ? Are you uncomfortable ? ” There 
was a wealth of mother-love in her low voice as she bent 
above him. 

Bunny put out a cold, moist hand. say, Maud,” he 
said again, “Jake’s a good sort. You like Jake, don’t 
you?” 

“Yes, darling,” she answered soothingly. 

He turned his head on the pillow; she could feel his 
fingers opening and closing in the restless way he had. 
“I like him too,” he said. “I like him awfully. He’s — 
the real thing. I wish ” 

“What, Bunny?” There was constraint in her voice, 
and she knew it, but it was a subject upon which she could 
not bring herself to speak freely. She dreaded his answer 
more than she could have said. 

Possibly he divined the fact, for he heaved a sharp sigh 
and said, “Nothing,” in a tone that told her that he was 
very far from satisfied. 

But she could not pursue the matter. Thankfully she 
let it drop. 

The evening wore away. There was only one candle in 
the room. By it she and Bunny ate the supper which Maud 


The Declaration of War 


85 


herself had fetched from the kitchen. No one had time to 
wait upon them. The boy was still trying to make the 
best of things, and she marvelled at his courage. 

When the meal was over he looked at her with a faint 
smile under his drawn brows. ‘ ‘ Look here, Maud ! There’s 
that bed in the comer. Can’t you make it comfortable 
and get a good night for once?” 

She looked at him in surprise. It was very unusual for 
Bunny to give a thought to her comfort. 

“Yes, I want you to,” he said. “Go and undress, and 
then bring your blankets up her.e! You can’t sit up all 
night in a straight-backed chair, so you may as well be 
comfortable. Don’t stare! Go and do it!” 

The bed in the corner was a thing of broken springs 
and crippled frame-work, but it had a mattress of straw 
albeit bedclothes were lacking. Bunny’s suggestion seemed 
feasible, and since it was plain that he would not be content 
unless she followed it she yielded without demur. Her own 
room was only a flight of stairs away, and she had already 
fetched several things from it for his comfort. She hoped 
to get him down to it on the following day, if only Jake would 
come. It was neither warm nor spacious, but it was 
preferable to this fireless attic. 

She brought the blankets, and arranged the bed. “I 
don’t think I’ll undress, Bunny,” she said. 

“You are to,” said Bunny. “Jake says no one can 
possibly rest properly without.” 

She was inclined to resent this assertion of Jake’s teach- 
ing, but again she yielded. Bunny was in a mood to work 
himself into a fever if his behests were not obeyed. 

She went down and undressed therefore, and presently 
slipped up to him again, hoping to find him asleep. But he 
was wide-eyed and restless. 

“It’s so beastly cold,” he said. “I can’t sleep. My 
feet are like stones. Where’s the fur rug? ” 


86 


The Hundredth Chance 


She looked round for it. “Oh, Bunny, I’m so sorry. 
I must have left it in your room downstairs. Never mind I 
Here’s a blanket instead!’’ 

She was already pulling it off her bed when Bunny 
asserted himself once more. 

“Maud, I won’t have it! I will not have it! Do you 
hear? Put it back again! Why can’t you go and fetch 
the fur rug?” 

“My dear, I can’t go down like this,” she objected. 

“Rot!” said Bunny. “Everyone’s gone to bed by now. 
If you don’t get it, they’ll be turning the room out in the 
morning, and it’ll get lost. Besides, you look all right.” 

She was wearing no more than a light wrap over her 
night-dress; but, as Bunny said, it was probable that every- 
one had retired, for the hour was late. Only a few dim 
lights were left burning in the passages. There would 
be no one about, and it would not take two minutes to slip 
down and get the rug. She dropped the blanket he had 
refused, and went softly out. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE RECKONING 

T he whole house was in silence as noiselessly she stole 
own the stairs. It was close upon midnight, and 
she did not meet or hear anyone. The place might have 
been empty, so still was it. 

The long, long roar of the sea came to her as she groped 
her way down the winding, dark passage that led to the 
room from which Bunny had been so rudely ejected a few 
hours before. There was no light here, but she knew her 
way perfectly, and, finding the door, softly opened it and 
turned on the electric light. 

The room was just as she had left it, the sofa drawn up 
by the burnt-out fire. She had collected all Bunny’s 
things earlier in the evening, but, since the rug had been 
forgotten, she thought it advisable to take the opportunity 
of ascertaining if anything else had been left behind. She 
found the rug, pushed the sofa back against the wall, and 
began a quiet search of all the drawers and other receptacles 
the room contained. 

She had almost finished her task, and was just closing 
the writing-table drawer when a sudden sound made her 
start. A creaking footstep came from the passage beyond 
the open door. She turned swiftly with a jerking heart to 
see her step-father, bloated and malignant, standing on the 
threshold. 

For a single instant he stood there looking at her, and 
87 


The Hundredth Chance 


'88 

a great throb of misgiving went through her at the savage 
triumph in his eyes. He had been drinking, drinking 
heavily she was sure ; but he did not seem to be intoxicated, 
only horribly sure of himself, brutally free from any tram- 
mels of civilization. He closed the door with decision, 
and moved forward. 

In the same moment she moved also towards the sofa 
over which she had thrown the rug she had come to fetch. 
Her heart was beating hard and fast, but she would not 
address a single word to him, would not so much as seem 
to see him. Supremely disdainful, she prepared to gather 
up her property and go. 

But as she turned to the door she found him barring the 
way. He spoke, thickly yet not indistinctly. 

‘‘ Not so fast, my fine madam! I’ve got to have a reckon- 
ing with you.” 

She drew herself up to the utmost of her slim height, 
and gave him a single brief glance of disgust. “Be good 
enough to let me pass! ” she said, in tones of clear command. 

But Sheppard did not move. He had been fortifying 
himself against any sudden strain such as this all day 
long. 

“Not so fast!” he said again, with a gleam of teeth 
under his dark moustache. “You made a mistake this 
morning, young woman; a very big mistake. Don’t make 
another to-night! ” 

Maud froze to an icier contempt. The steady courage of 
her must have shamed any man in his sober senses. 

“Stand aside instantly,” she said, “or I shall ring the 
bell and rouse the house!” 

He laughed at that, a cruel, vindictive laugh. “Oh, 
you don’t come over me that way! You mean to have 
your lesson, I see, and p’raps it’s as; well. It’s been post- 
poned too long already. There’s a deal too much spirit 
about you, and too much lip too. You think I’ll put up 


89 


The Reckoning 

with anything, don’t you? Think yourself much too high 
and mighty to associate with the likes of me? Think you 
can call me any dam’ names you please, and I’ll bear ’em 
like a lamb?” 

His voice rose. Obviously his temper was already 
beyond control. He was in fact lashing it on to fury. 
Maud knew the process well. 

It was enough for her, and she waited for no more. She 
stepped quietly to the bell. 

She was nearer to it than he, and she did not for a moment 
imagine that he would dare to molest her. But she had 
not realized the maddened condition to which he had 
wrought himself; and even when he suddenly and violently 
strode forward she did not draw back or dream that he 
would touch her. 

Only as his hand caught her outstretched arm did the 
knowledge that he was as utterly beyond control as a wild 
beast burst upon her. She uttered a desperate cry, and 
began a sharp, instinctive struggle to escape. 

It was a very brief struggle, so taken by surprise and 
utterly unprepared was she. One moment she was fighting 
wildly for freedom; the next he had her at his mercy. 

”Oh, you may scream!” he gibed. ‘‘No one will hear 
you! Now — do you know what I am going to do to you?” 

‘‘Let me go!” she panted, crimson and breathless. 

He locked her two wrists together in one iron hand. 
His strength was utterly irresistible. She was as a pigmy 
in the grip of a giant. 

“I’ll let you go when I’ve done with you,” he said, 
gloating openly over her quivering helplessness. “But 
first you will have your lesson. I’m going to give you the 
trouncing of your life!” 

With the words he suddenly wrenched her round and 
forced her, almost flung her, face downwards over the sofa- 
head. 


90 


The Hundredth Chance 


'‘You’ve been spoiling for this for a long time,” he 
said, “and — being your step-father — I’ll see that you get it. 
Never had a good spanking before in all your life, I daresay? 
Well, we’ll see how you like this one!” 

And therewith he pulled off one of his down-at-heel 
carpet slippers and proceeded to flog her with it, as if she had 
been a boy. 

What she went through during that awful chastisement 
Maud never forgot. She fought at first like a mad creature 
till she was suddenly aware of the light wrap she wore 
ripping in all directions, and from that moment she resisted 
no more, standing passive in an agony of apprehension 
while he wreaked upon her all the pent malice of the past 
few weeks. 

It was a brutal punishment, administered with the 
savage intention of breaking down the stark silence with 
which she sought to meet it. And even when he succeeded 
at last, even when the girl’s strength went from her and she 
collapsed as he held her with a wild burst of hysterical 
crying and broken, unnerved entreaties, he did not stay his 
hand. Now was his grand opportunity for vengeance, and 
he might never get another. He did not spare her until he 
had inflicted the utmost of which he was capable. 

Then at last roughly he set her free. “That’s right! 
Blub away ! ” he jeered. “I’ve taken all the stiffening out of 
you at last, and a damn’ good job too. P’raps you’ll keep a 
civil tongue in your head for the future, and give me no 
more of your dratted impudence. There’s nothing like a 
sound drubbing to bring a woman to her senses. But I 
don’t advise you to qualify for another.” 

He put on his slipper, breathing somewhat heavily after 
his exertions, then stood up and wiped his forehead. His 
fury had exhausted itself. His mood had become one of 
semi-malicious elation. 

He looked at the girl still crouched over the sofa-head. 


91 


The Reckoning 

sobbing and convulsed, utterly broken, utterly conquered. 

“Come!” he said. “Don’t let us have any more non- 
sense! You won’t give me any more of your airs after 
this, and we shall be all the better friends for it. Stand up 
and say you’re sorry!” 

She gasped and gasped again, but no words could she 
utter. The hateful callousness of the man could not so 
much as rouse her scorn. Her pride was in the dust. 

He took her by the arm and pulled her roughly up, 
making her stand before him though she was scarcely cap- 
able of standing. 

“Come!” he began again, and broke off with a brutal 
laugh, staring at her. 

A. flame of fierce humiliation went through her, burning 
her from head to foot as she realized that her night-dress 
had been rent open across her bosom. She caught it to- 
gether in her trembling fingers, shrinking in an anguish of 
shame from the new devil that had begun to gibe at her out 
of his bloodshot eyes. 

He laughed again. “Well, my fine madam, we seem to 
have pitched the proprieties overboard quite completely 
this time. All your own fault, you know. Serves you 
jolly well right. You aren’t going to say you’re sorry, eh? 
Well, well, I’d give you another spanking if I felt equal to 
it, but I don’t. So I’ll have the kiss of peace instead.” 

He caught her to him with the words, gripped her tightly 
round the body, tilted her head back; and for one unspeak- 
able moment the heavy moustache was crushed suffocat- 
ingly upon her panting lips. 

In that moment the strength of madness entered into 
Maud, such strength as was later wholly beyond her own 
comprehension. With frenzied force she resisted him, 
fighting as if for her very life, and so suddenly, so unex- 
pectedly, that in sheer astonishment his grip relaxed. 

It was her one chance of escape, and she seized it. With 


92 


The Hundredth Chance 


a single furious wrench she tore herself from him, not caring' 
how she did it, found herself free, and fled, fled like a mad 
thing, panting, dishevelled, frantic, from the room. 

His laugh of half-tipsy derision followed her, and all the 
devils of hatred, malice, and bitter cauterizing shame 
went with her as she fled. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE ONLY PORT 

I T was a rainy, squally morning, and Jake returning 
from the Stables after an early ride, looked down at his 
muddy gaiters with momentary hesitation. Mrs. Lovelace, 
his cook and housekeeper, objected very strongly to muddy 
gaiters in what she was pleased to call “her parlour.” 
They generally meant disaster to a clean table-cloth, though 
Jake himself could never be made to see why, since he was 
the only person to use it and never noticed its condition, 
this should be regarded as a matter of vital importance. 

On the present occasion, Mrs. Lovelace being out of 
sight and hearing, he decided to risk detection, and, leaving 
his cap on a peg in the dark oak passage, he passed on to the 
room overlooking the downs and the distant sea in which 
he had once entertained Bunny and his sister. 

Breakfast would be awaiting him, he knew; and he was 
more than ready for breakfast. In fact he was ravenously 
hungry, and he hastened to hide the offending gaiters under 
the spotless table-cloth as soon as he had rung the bell for 
the dish which was being kept hot for him. 

When Mrs. Lovelace came stoutly in, he greeted her 
with a smile. “I’m late this morning. Been having a 
tussle with one of the youngsters. No, don’t put that 
whip away! It wants a new lash. What a cussed nuisance 
this rain is! The ground is a quagmire, and the animals 
can hardly keep their feet. Any letters?” 

93 


94 


The Hundredth Chance 


“One, sir,’’ said Mrs. Lovelace, and laid it before him. 
Then she looked at him searchingly. “Did you get very 
muddy?’’ she enquired. 

“What?” said Jake. He took up his letter. “Yes, you 
can take the cover. No, leave the coffee! J’ll pour that 
out when I’m ready. Muddy? Look out of the window, 
my good woman, if you want to know! Don’t wait! 
Time’s precious, and I guess you’re busy.” 

Again he smiled upon Mrs. Lovelace, his pleasant, candid 
smile; and Mrs. Lovelace had perforce to smile back and 
withdraw. 

Jake heaved a sigh of relief, and began his breakfast. 
His letter, bearing a purple crest of a fox’s head and under 
it the motto: Sans Vertu, lay on the table before him. 
He eyed it as he ate, and presently took it up. It bore a 
Swiss stamp. 

Jake opened it and read: 

“ Dear Bolton, 

“I meant to winter in Cairo, and heaven alone knows 
why I am here. It is fiendishly cold, and blowing great 
guns. There was skating when I arrived, but that is a 
dream of the past. We now slop about knee-deep in 
slush or play cat’s cradle in the salon during the day. We 
dance or cuddle in comers practically all night. Some of the 
female portion of the community are quite passably attract- 
ive, but I always preferred one goddess to a crowd, and 
she is not to be found here. Unless it freezes within the 
next forty-eight hours, I shall come back to beastly old 
England and look for her. So if I should turn up at Bur- 
chester within the next few days, please accept this (the 
only) intimation and have the stud ready for inspection. 

“Yours sincerely, 

“Saltash. ” 


95 


The Only Port 

Jake’s face wore a curious expression as he folded the 
letter and returned it to the envelope. It was what Bunny 
called his “cowboy” look — a look in which humour and sheer, 
savage determination were very oddly mingled. There 
was a good deal of the primitive man about him at that 
moment. He continued his breakfast with business-like 
rapidity and presently helped himself to coffee with a 
perfectly steady hand. 

The cup, however, was still untasted beside him when 
Mrs. Lovelace once more made her appearance, her plump 
face looking somewhat startled. 

“Miss Brian has called, sir. Wishes to see you for a 
moment. Shall I show her in?” 

Jake’s chair scraped back and he was on his feet in a 
single movement. “Of course! Where is she? No, I’ll 
fetch her myself. Out of the way, my good woman!” 

He removed her from his path without the smallest 
ceremony, and was gone before she could protest. 

In the passage he almost ran into his visitor. “Miss 
Brian! Is that you? Come right in! Snakes! You’re 
wet. Come along to the fire!” 

He had her by it before his greeting was fully uttered. 
A man of action at all times, was Jake. And Maud, still 
panting from her recent struggle with the elements, found 
herself in an easy-chair, holding numbed fingers to the blaze 
almost before she realized how she came to be there. He 
knelt beside her, unbuttoning her streaming waterproof. 
She saw the glint of the firelight on his chestnut hair. 

“Thank you,” she said, with an effort. “You are very 
kind.” 

He looked at her with those lynx-like eyes of his. “Say, 
you’re perished!” he said, in his soft, easy drawl. 

She smiled quiveringly at the concern in his face. She 
had expected a precipitate enquiry about Bunny, but it was 
evident that he had thoughts only for her at that moment. 


96 


The Hundredth Chance 


And she was very badly in need of htiman kindness and 
consideration just then. 

She sat huddled over the fire, all the queenliness gone 
out of her, tried to speak to him twice and failed; finally, 
shook her head and sat in silence. 

He got up and reached across the table for the coffee 
he had just poured out. 

** Drink a little! ” he said, holding it to her. You need it.’’ 

She made a small gesture of impotence. Somehow the 
warmth and comfort of the room after the cheerless cold 
without had upset her. She still smiled, but it was a 
puckered, difficult smile, and her eyes were full of tears. 
She could not take the cup. Her throat worked painfully. 
Again she shook her head. 

Jake stood beside her for a moment or two looking down 
at her, then with swift decision he set down the coffee, 
stepped to the door and quietly turned the key. 

He came back to her with the steady purpose of a man 
quite sure of himself, knelt again by her side, put his arm 
about her. 

“You lean on me, my girl!” he said softly. “Don’t be 
afraid!” 

She gave him a quick look. The tears were running 
down her face. She covered it suddenly with both hands 
and sobbed. 

He drew her to him so gently that she was hardly aware 
of the action till her head came to rest on his shoulder. 
His free hand, strong and purposeful, took possession of one 
of hers and sturdily held it. 

“It’s all right,” he murmured to her soothingly. “It’s 
all right.” 

She wept for awhile without restraint, her nerves com- 
pletely shattered, her pride laid low. And while she wept, 
Jake held her, strongly, sustainingly, his red-brown eyes 
staring unblinkingly full into the heart of the fire. 


97 


The Only Port 

At the end of a long interval she grew a little calmer, 
made as if she would withdraw herself. But very quietly 
he frustrated her. 

“No, not while you’re feeling so badly. Say, now, let 
me take off your hat! Guess I can do it without you 
moving.” 

She was not in a condition to forbid him, and he removed 
it with considerable dexterity, while she still hid her quivering 
face against him with an instinctive confidence that paid 
a dumb tribute to the man’s complete mastery of himself. 

“I’m dreadfully sorry — to have behaved like this,” 
she whispered at last. 

“You needn’t be sorry for that,” said Jake. “No one 
will know except me. And I don’t count.” 

“I think you do, ” she faltered, and made a more decided 
effort to free herself. 

He let her go with a kindly pat on the shoulder. “Say, 
now, if that coffee ain’t cold, p’raps you’ll try a sip.” 

He reached for it and held it to her without rising. 
She lifted the cup in both her trembling hands while he held 
the saucer, and slowly drank. 

Jake’s eyes went with abrupt directness to her wrists 
as she did it. He did not speak at the moment. Only 
as she returned the cup he put it quietly aside and laid his 
hand over hers. 

“What’s that skunk Sheppard been doing to you?” he 
asked. 

She shrank at the straight question “How — how did 
you know ” 

He lifted his hand and pushed back her sleeves without 
speaking. There was something dreadful about him as he 
regarded the bruises thus exposed. 

A quick fear went through her. “Jake, ” she said sharply, 
.“that — is no affair of yours. You are not to — interfere.” 

His eyes came up to hers and the hardness went from 


7 


98 


The Hundredth Chance 


him on the instant. “I reckon you’re going to make some 
use of me, ” he said. 

She trembled a little and turned her face away. She 
had used his Christian name spontaneously, and now 
suddenly she found that all formality had gone from be- 
tween them. It disconcerted her, frightened her, made her 
uncertain as to his attitude as well as her own. 

Jake waited a few seconds; then with the utmost gentle- 
ness he laid his hand again upon hers. ‘'Are you afraid to 
say it?” he said. 

” To say — what ? ” Her hands moved agitatedly beneath 
his till strangely, unexpectedly, they turned and clasped 
it with convulsive strength. ‘‘Yes, I am afraid,” she said, 
with a sob. 

‘‘But I asked you to marry me weeks ago,” said Jake. 

Her head was bowed. She sought to avoid hb? look. 
“I know you did.” 

“And you are going to marry me, ” he said, in a tone that 
was scarcely a question. 

She turned desperately and faced him. “I must have a 
clear understanding with you first,” she said. 

“I — see,” said Jake. 

He met her eyes with the utmost directness, and before 
his look hers wavered and fell. “Please!” she whispered. 
“You must agree to that.” 

He did not speak for a moment, but his fingers wound 
themselves closely about her own. 

“ I don’t want you to be scared, ” he said finally. “But 
— that’s a mighty big thing you’ve asked of me.” 

Maud’s face was burning. “I know it isn’t for me to 
make — conditions, ” she said, under her breath. 

A gleam of humour crossed Jake’s face. “I guess it’s 
up to me to accept or refuse,” he said. “But — suppose I 
refuse — what are you going to do then? Will you marry 
me — all the same?” 


The Only Port 99 

She shook her head instantly. “I don’t know what I 
shall do, Jake. I — I must go back and think.” 

She mustered her strength and made as if she would 
rise, but he checked her. 

” Wait ! ” he said. ‘ ‘ I haven’t refused — yet . Lean back 
and rest a bit ! I’ve got to do some thinking too.” 

She obeyed him because it seemed that he must be 
obeyed. He got to his feet. 

“Poor girl!” he said gently. “It hasn’t been easy for 
you, has it? Reckon you’ve just been driven to me for 
refuge. I’m the nearest port, that’s all.” 

“The only port,” Maud answered, with a shiver. 

“All right,” he said. “It’s a safe one. But — ” He 
left the sentence unfinished and turned to the window. 

She lay back with closed eyes, counting the hard throbs 
of her heart while she waited. He was very quiet, standing 
behind her with his face to the storm-driven clouds. She 
longed to know what was passing in his mind, but she could 
not break the silence. It held her like a spell while the 
clock on the mantelpiece ticked the dragging minutes away. 
She whispered to her racing heart that the moment he 
moved she would rise and go. But while the silence lasted 
she could not bring herself to stir. She was worn out physi- 
cally and mentally, almost too weary for thought. 

He moved at length rather suddenly, wheeled round 
before she was aware, and came back to the fire. 

“Don’t get up!” he said. “You look ready to drop, 
and you may just as well hear what I have to say sitting. 
It won’t make a mite of difference.” 

She raised her eyes to his in unconscious appeal. “lam 
afraid I have made a mistake, ” she said. 

She saw his smile for a moment. “No, you haven’t 
made a mistake, my girl. You’re safe with me. But I 
wonder if you have the faintest idea now why I want you 
for my wife.” 


100 


The Hundredth Chance 

The simple directness of his speech touched her as she 
did not want to be touched. She sat silent, her hands 
clasped tightly together. 

“You haven’t,” he said. “And p’raps this isn’t the 
time to tell you. You’ve come to me for refuge — ^^as I 
hoped you would— and I shan’t abuse your confidence. 
But, you know, I had a reason.” 

He paused, but she still said nothing. Only she could 
not meet his eyes any longer. She looked away into the 
fire, waiting for him to continue. 

“Say, now, ” he said, after a moment, “ if I make a bargain 
with you, you won’t accuse me of taking advantage of your 
position?” 

She winced a little. “I wish you — to forget — ^that I 
ever said that.” 

“All right. It is forgotten, ” said Jake. “ I’ll go ahead. 
We haven’t mentioned Bunny though I take it he is a fairly 
big factor in the case. That is to say, if it hadn’t been for 
Bunny, you would never have taken this step.” 

Maud’s eyes went swiftly up to his. “But of course I 
shouldn’t!” she said quickly. “I thought you understood 
that.” 

“I quite understand,” said Jake. “I assure you I’m 
not taking anything for granted. But now — I want to 
put it to you — supposing the impossible happened, supposing 
Bunny were cured, — yes, it’s only the hundredth chance, 

I know — still, just for a moment, suppose it! Bunny 
cured, able to look after himself like other lads. You would 
be married to me. What then?” 

“What then?” She repeated the words, still with an ; 
effort meeting his look. 

He made a slight gesture with one hand. “You would ! 
stick to me?” 

The hot colour flooded her face and neck. “Of course, ” 
she sr d, her voice very low. “That goes without saying.” 


lOI 


The Only Port 

He bent slowly towards her. “Maud, if we ever live 
alone together, it must be as man and wife.” 

His voice was low too, but she heard in it a deep note 
that seemed to pierce through and through her. His eyes 
drew and held her own. She wanted to avoid them but could 
not. They burned like the red, inner heart of a furnace. 

The blood receded from her face. She felt it go. “We 
— need never live alone, ” she said faintly. 

He held out a quiet hand to her. “P’raps not. But I 
should like your promise to that, all the same.” He paused 
a moment; then added: “I have sworn already to be good 
to you, remember.” 

She laid her hand in his. She could not do otherwise. 
He held it and waited. 

“Very well, ” she said at last, her voice almost a whisper. 
“I— agree.” 

He let her go, and straightened himself. “It’s a deal, 
then,” he said. “And now for more immediate details. 
You’ve decided to marry me, and I gather you don’t mind 
how soon?” 

He picked up a clay pipe from the mantelpiece, and 
knocked out some ash against the fireplace. 

Maud watched him with a curious species of fascination. 
There was something in the man’s serenity of mien that 
puzzled her, something that did not go with those fiery, 
possessive eyes. 

He looked at her with a smile that was half-quizzical, 
half-kindly, and her heart began to beat more freely. 

“We must somehow get away from ‘The Anchor’ to- 
day,” she said. “I have a little money. Perhaps if you 
would help me to move. Bunny, we could go into lodgings 
again until ” 

“I have a little money too,” said Jake. “And I will 
certainly help you. But first, — do you object to telling me 
what has been happening at ‘The Anchor’?” 


102 


The Hundredth Chance 


She coloured again vividly, painfully, but he was fully 
engrossed with the filling of his pipe and did not notice her 
embarrassment. 

“To begin with,” she said with difficulty, “he — Mr. 
Sheppard — has turned us out of the room downstairs. He 
carried Bunny off himself to an attic under the roof, and hurt 
him horribly. I was driven nearly mad at the time.” She 
broke off, shuddering at the remembrance. 

Jake frowned. “Go on!” he said briefly. 

She went on with increasing difficulty. “ That happened 
yesterday. I hoped you would come round in the afternoon 
or evening, but you didn’t.” 

“I couldn’t get away,” he interpolated. “Yes? And 
then?” 

“Then — in the evening — that is, late at night — ” Maud 
stumbled like a nervous child — “I went down to fetch 
something and he — he came in after me, half-tipsy; and — 
and — he — ” She halted suddenly. “I can’t go on!” she 
said, with quivering lips. 

Jake laid aside his pipe and stooped over her. “Did 
he beat you, or did he make love to you? Which?” he 
said. 

There was a sound in his voice like the growl of an angry 
beast. She could not look him in the face. 

“Tell me!” he said, and laid an imperative hand on her 
shoulder. “You need never tell anyone else.” 

She shrank a little. “I don’t see why I should tell 
you,” she said reluctantly. 

. “You must tell me, ” said Jake with decision. 

And, after brief hesitation, miserably, with face averted,, 
she yielded and told him. After all, why should he not 
know? Her dainty pride was crushed for ever. She could 
sink no lower. 

“He held me down and thrashed me — with his slipper. ! 
was in my night-dress, and — and it was rather a brut a 


103 


The Only Port 

thrashing. Perhaps some women wouldn’t have minded it 
much; but I — I am not used to that kind of treatment. I 
hope you will never beat me, Jake. I don’t bear it very 
heroically.” 

She tried to laugh, but it was a piteous little sound 
that came from her quivering throat. 

Jake’s hand closed upon her shoulder. She seemed to 
feel the whole man vibrate behind it like a steel spring. 
Yet he made no comment whatever. “Go on!” he said, 
his voice short and stern. “ Tell me everything!” 

She braced herself to finish. “He went on till he was 
tired. I believe I was wailing like a baby, but no one 
heard. And then — and then — he suddenly discovered that 
I was a woman and not a naughty child, and he — he — • 
kissed me.” She shuddered suddenly and violently. 
“That’s nearly all,” she ended. “I got away from him, 
heaven knows how. And I got back to Bunny. I didn’t 
tell him everything, but I couldn’t help him knowing I 
was upset. We neither of us slept all night. And the 
night before was a bad one too. That’s how I came 
to be so idiotic just now.” 

She leaned slowly back in her chair till she rested against 
the hand he had laid upon her. 

“Do you know,” she said tremulously, after a moment, 
“I think it has actually done me good to tell you? You 
are very kind to me, Jake.” 

He withdrew his hand and turned away. “That may 
be,” he said enigmatically. “And again it may not. 
Thanks anyway for telling me.” He picked up the horse- 
whip that he had flung down on entering, and began with 
his square, steady fingers to remove the lash. “You are 
right. You can’t spend another night at ‘The Anchor.’ 
If you will allow me, I will find some comfortable rooms 
where you and Bunny can stay till we can get married. 
I will go up to-morrow and get a special licence. The 


104 The Hundredth Chance 

marriage might be arranged for Sunday — if that will suit 
you.” 

“Next Sunday?” Maud started round and looked at 
him with startled eyes. 

He nodded. “In church. After the eight o’clock ser- 
vice if there is one. Your mother must give you away. 
Afterwards, we will come on here with the boy.” He 
glanced round at her. “He shall have this room for the 
daytime, and the one over it to sleep in. I’m sorry there 
are not two ground-floor rooms for him; but I know how to 
carry him in comfort. Of course, if necessary this room 
could be used as a bedroom as well.” 

He threw down the worn lash and went to a drawer for a 
new one. Maud still watched him in silence. 

“Does that meet with your approval?” he asked at 
length. 

“I think you are — more than good,” she said, a tremor 
of feeling in her voice. 

He kept his eyes lowered over his task. “I am not 
hustling you too much?” he enquired. 

She smiled wanly. “I am asking myself if I ought to let 
you do it,” she said. “It doesn’t seem very fair to you.” 

“It chances to be the thing I want,” said Jake, his 
fingers still busy. “And I reckon you won’t disappoint 
me — won’t draw back? I can count on you?” 

She rose, turning fully towards him. “You can certainly 
count on me,” she said. “But are you really sure you 
meant it? It isn’t going to spoil your life?” 

Jake stood upright with a jerk. She met the extra- 
ordinary brightness of his eyes with an odd mixture of 
boldness and reluctance. 

“My girl,” he said, in his queer, anomalous drawl, 
“there ain’t a man anywhere in God’s universe who knows 
what he wants better than I do. If I didn’t want this thing 
I shouldn’t ask for it. See?” He came to her with the 


The Only Port 105 

words, and laid one finger on her arm. ‘ ‘ Don’t you know it’s 
your friendship I’m after?” he said, with a touch of aggres- 
siveness. “Why, I’ve been after it ever since that night 
I found you down in the dark alone on the edge of the 
parade. You were up against it that night, weren’t you? 
And didn’t like me over much for butting in. Do you 
know what you made me think of? A forlorn princess of 
the Middle Ages. There’s a mediaeval flavour about you. 
I don’t know where you keep it. But it makes me feel 
mediaeval too.” 

She drew back a little, stiffened ever so slightly. Some- 
thing in her resented the freedom of his speech. Something 
rose in swift revolt and clamoured to be gone. 

He must have seen her gesture, her quick, protesting 
blush; for he turned almost instantly and jerked the whip- 
lash through his fingers, testing it. 

A fitful gleam of sunshine suddenly pierced the clouds 
behind him and shone on his bent head. His hair gleamed 
like (burnished .copper. iThe tawny glint of it made her 
think of an animal — a beast of prey, alert, merciless, 
primeval. 

She put oh her hat. “ I must be getting back to Bunny,” 
she said. v. 

“I am coming with you,” said Jake. 

She looked at him sharply. “You will walk ? ” 

“Yes, I shall walk.” 

She pointed with nervous abruptness to the whip he held. 
“Then you won’t want that.” 

Jake smiled, and tested the whip again without speaking. 

Maud waited a moment ; then steadily she spoke. “You 
realized of course that when I told you about Mr. Shep- 
pard’s behaviour of last night, it was in strict confidence?” 

Jake squared his broad shoulders. “All right, my 
girl. It’s safe with me,” he said. “There shan’t be any 
scandal.” 


io6 


The Hundredth Chance 


Maud was very white, but quite resolute. “Jake,” she 
said, “you are not to do it.” 
i He raised his brows. 

“You are not to do it!” she said again, with vehemence. 
“I mean it! I mean it! The quarrel is not yours. You 
are not to make it so.” She paused, and suddenly caught 
her breath. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! You make 
me — afraid!” 

Jake turned and tossed the whip down on the window- 
seat. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of,” he said rather 
curtly. “You’re making your own bugbear. P’raps it’s 
natural,” he added, with abrupt gentleness. “You’ve 
had a lot to bear lately. There! I’ve done what you 
asked. We had better get back while it’s fine.” 

He unlocked and opened the door, standing back for her 
to pass. 

He kept his eyes downcast as she went through, and she 
knew that it was in response to her appeal that he did so. 
She tingled with a burning embarrassment, which vanished 
all in a moment as he said: “Say, now, do you mind if I 
light my pipe before I follow you? Don’t wait! I’ll 
catch you up.” 

And she made her way out into the fleeting sunlight and 
racing wind with a strong sense of relief. The pipe was not a 
particularly aristocratic feature of Jake’s existence, but it 
was an extremely characteristic one, and it placed matters 
on a normal footing at once. Jake was never disconcerting 
or formidable when he was smoking a pipe. She consented 
to it gladly. 

And Jake turned back into the room with a grim smile 
on his lips, picked up a letter from the table, and thrust it 
deep into the fire. 

After that he lighted his pipe with the charred remnants 
thereof, and followed Maud into the open. 


CHAPTER XIV 


!' 


THE WAY OF ESCAPE 

T he sun shone out again as they went down the hill, 
and the sea gleamed below them like a sheet of silver. 

' “You like this place?” asked Jake. 

“I could like it,” she made answer. 

He smiled. “ Then I reckon you shall. Say, does Bunny 
I know about your coming up here to me?” 

She coloured deeply. “He knew I came, yes. He did 
not know why.” 

Jake was still smiling. “Guess he’ll be pleased,” he 
said. He added, between puffs at his pipe: “V/e’ll make 
him happy between us. We’ll give him the time of his 
life.” 

She drew a deep breath. Surely no sacrifice was too great 
: for that! 

i They passed the church on the hill, and descended the 
I steep road to the town. 

“There are some rooms I know of along this road,” said 
Jake. “Kept by the wife of one of our stable-men. Shall 
we go in and have a look at ’em?” ** 

She hesitated. “Bunny will wonder where I am.” 

He glanced at her. “Well, look here! You leave me to 
see to it. I’ll fix up something, and then I’ll come on after 
you and we’ll get the boy away. ” 

She met his look somewhat doubtfully. 

“Why not?” said Jake. 

107 


io8 


The Hundredth Chance 


She answered him with an effort. “You do understand, 
don’t you, that I couldn’t— I can’t— accept help from you 
before — before — our marriage?” 

“Why not?” he said again. “Reckon you mean to 
stick to your bargain?” 

“Oh, it isn’t that,” she said painfully. “Of course — of 
course — I shall keep my word with you. But I have a little 
pride left — just a little — and ” 

“x\nd I’m to humour it, eh?” said Jake. “Well, you 
shall have it your own way. But let me do the fixing for 
you! I know just what you want. It’s only for a few days 
either.” 

He smiled at her, and she yielded. 

But when they separated at length she paused uneasily. 
“Jake!” 

“Your servant!” said Jake promptly. 

She stretched a nervous hand towards him. “Jake, if 
you meet — my step-father, you will not — not — ^ — ” 

“Most unfortunately I can’t,” said Jake. He held her 
hand for a moment, and let it go. “There! Good-bye! I 
won’t do anything indiscreet, I promise you. There is too 
much at stake. Now you get back to Bunny as quick as 
you can! I shan’t be long after you. ” 

And Maud went with a feeling at the heart of relief and 
dread oddly mingled. She knew that Jake would keep his 
word. There was a rocklike strength about him that 
nothing could ever shake. For good or ill, he would stick 
to a bargain, be the price what it might. But she saw him 
overriding every obstacle to attain his purpose. He would 
never flinch from possible consequences; of that she was 
certain. What he had said he would do, that he would do, 
and no power on earth would divert him therefrom. 

She shivered suddenly and violently as she walked. The 
relentless force of the man had in it an element that was 
terrible. What had she done? What had she done? 


109 


The Way of Escape 

She encountered her mother as she mounted the hotel 
stairs. 

“Oh, my dear, here you are at last!” was her greeting. 
“ I have been so worried about you. Come into my room! ” 

But Maud resisted her. “ I must go to Bimny. He has 
been alone for so long.” 

“No, dear, no! Bunny’s all right for the present. I’ve 
been to see. He doesn’t want anything. He told me so. 
Come into my room — just for a moment, dear child! We 
I can’t talk in the passage.” 

I As Mrs. Sheppard was plainly bent upon talking, Maud 
I concluded she had something to say ; and followed her. 

I “Shut the door, my darling! That’s right. How white 
I you look this morning! Dearie, I am more sorry than I 
i can say for what happened last night. Giles told me about 
i it. But he says he is quite willing now to let bygones be 
bygones. So you won’t bear malice, darling; will you? 
Of course I know he ought not to have done it,” with a 
slightly uneasy glance at her daughter’s rigid face. “I 
told him so. But he assured me he only did it for your good, 
dear. And he seems to think that you were rather rude to 
him earlier in the day. He is old-fashioned, you know. He 
thinks a whipping clears the air, so to speak. It’s better 
anyhow than saving up grievance after grievance, isn’t it, 

. dear? You’ll start afresh now, and be much better friends. 

‘ At least it won’t be his fault if you’re not. He is quite 
I ready to treat you as his own daughter.” 

! She paused for breath. 

Maud was standing stiff and cold against the door. “Is 
! that what you called me in here to say?” she asked. 

‘ Mrs. Sheppard still looked uneasy though she tried to 
laugh it off. “Not quite all, dear. But I really should 
go and make friends with him if I were you. He isn’t a 
bit angry with you any more. In fact he has been joking 
about it, says his arm is so stiff this morning he can hardly 


io8 


The Hundredth Chance 


She answered him with an effort. “You do understand, 
don’t you, that I couldn’t— I can’t — accept help from you 
before — before — our marriage?” 

“Why not?” he said again. “Reckon you mean to 
stick to your bargain?” 

“Oh, it isn’t that,” she said painfully. “Of course — of 
course — I shall keep my word with you. But I have a little 
pride left — just a little — and ” 

“x\nd I’m to humour it, eh?” said Jake. “Well, you 
shall have it your own way. But let me do the fixing for 
you! I know just what you want. It’s only for a few days 
either. ” 

He smiled at her, and she yielded. 

But when they separated at length she paused uneasily. 
“Jake!” 

“Your servant!” said Jake promptly. 

She stretched a nervous hand towards him. “Jake, if 
you meet — my step-father, you will not — not ” 

“Most unfortunately I can’t,” said Jake. He held her 
hand for a moment, and let it go. “There! Good-bye! I 
won’t do anything indiscreet, I promise you. There is too 
much at stake. Now you get back to Bunny as quick as 
you can! I shan’t be long after you.” 

And Maud went with a feeling at the heart of relief and 
dread oddly mingled. She knew that Jake would keep his 
word. There was a rocklike strength about him that 
nothing could ever shake. For good or ill, he would stick 
to a bargain, be the price what it might. But she saw him 
overriding every obstacle to attain his purpose. He would 
never flinch from possible consequences; of that she was 
certain. What he had said he would do, that he would do, 
and no power on earth would divert him therefrom. 

She shivered suddenly and violently as she walked. The 
relentless force of the man had in it an element that was 
terrible. What had she done? What had she done? 


109 


The Way of Escape 

She encountered her mother as she mounted the hotel 
stairs. 

“Oh, my dear, here you are at last!” was her greeting. 
“ I have been so worried about you. Come into my room I ” 

But Maud resisted her. “I must go to Bunny. He has 
been alone for so long.” 

“No, dear, no! Bunny’s all right for the present. I’ve 
been to see. He doesn’t want anything. He told me so. 
Come into my room — just for a moment, dear child! We 
can’t talk in the passage.” 

As Mrs. Sheppard was plainly bent upon talking, Maud 
concluded she had something to say; and followed her. 

“Shut the door, my darling! That’s right. How white 
you look this morning! Dearie, I am more sorry than I 
can say for what happened last night. Giles told me about 
it. But he says he is quite willing now to let bygones be 
bygones. So you won’t bear malice, darling; will you? 
Of course I know he ought not to have done it,” with a 
slightly uneasy glance at her daughter’s rigid face. “I 
told him so. But he assured me he only did it for your good, 
dear. And he seems to think that you were rather rude to 
him earlier in the day. He is old-fashioned, you know. He 
thinks a whipping clears the air, so to speak. It’s better 
anyhow than saving up grievance after grievance, isn’t it, 
dear? You’ll start afresh now, and be much better friends. 
At least it won’t be his fault if you’re not. He is quite 
ready to treat you as his own daughter.” 

She paused for breath. 

Maud was standing stiff and cold against the door. “Is 
that what you called me in here to say?” she asked. 

Mrs. Sheppard still looked uneasy though she tried to 
laugh it off. “Not quite all, dear. But I really should 
go and make friends with him if I were you. He isn’t a 
bit angry with you any more. In fact he has been joking 
about it, says his arm is so stiff this morning he can hardly 


no 


The Hundredth Chance 


use it. You couldn’t possibly keep it up if you heard 
him.” 

‘‘I shall not hear him,” said Maud. 

White and proud she faced her mother, and the latter’s 
half -forced merriment died away. 

“Child, don’t look so tragic! What is it? Come, he 
didn’t hurt you so badly surely! Can’t you forgive and 
forget?” 

“No,” Maud said. “I shall never do either. I am 
going away with Bunny to-day. And I hope — with all my 
heart — that I shall never see his face again. ” 

“Going away?” Mrs. Sheppard opened startled eyes. 
“But, Maud ” 

“I am going to marry Jake Bolton,” Maud said, her 
voice very deep and quiet. “He will take me and Bunny 
too.” 

“Oh, my dear. That man!” Her mother gazed at her 
in consternation. “He — he is infinitely rougher than 
Giles,” she said. 

“I know he is rough. But he cares for Bunny. That 
matters most,” said Maud. “In fact, I believe he likes 
Bunny best! ” 

“My dear, it’s 3^ou he wants — not Bunny,” said Mrs. 
Sheppard, with a rare flash of insight. “ I saw that at the 
very beginning of things — at our wedding-party. Pie 
looked at you as if he could devour you. ” 

Maud put out a quick hand of protest. “ Mother, please! 
That doesn’t prove he cares about me — any more than I 
care for him. It — it’s just the way with men of his sort. 
He — he has been very kind, and he is genuinely fond of 
Bunny, and — and — in fact it’s the only thing to be done. 
I can’t — possibly — stay here any longer. ” 

Her lip quivered unexpectedly. She turned to go. But 
her mother intercepted her quickly, endearingly. 

“ Maud, darling, wait a minute! I haven’t finished. You 


Ill 


The Way of Escape 

took my breath away. But listen a moment! This 
sacrifice won’t be necessary, I am sure, I am siu-e. You 
couldn’t marry that horsey creature. You would never 
bear life with him. You are not adaptable enough nor 
experienced enough. You could never endtue it. It 
would be infinitely worse than poor Giles and his tantrums. 
No, but listen, dear! If you really feel you must go, I 
think a way of escape is going to be offered to you and poor 
little Bunny too. I have had a letter from yoxu* Uncle 
Edward, and he is coming expressly to see you both. ” 

“Mother!” Maud almost tore herself free, gazing at her 
with that in her eyes that was to haunt Mrs. Sheppard for 
many 'days. “ Oh, why, why, why didn’t you tell me before ? 
When did the letter come?” 

“It was last night, darling. You were such a long way 
off — right at the top of the house — and I was too tired to go 
after you — I meant to tell you first thing, dear; but when I 
went to look for you after breakfast, you had gone. I am 
very sorry, but really it wasn’t my fault. Still, you won’t 
want to marry that vulgar person now, for I am sure your 
uncle means to make provision for you. He can well afford 
it. He is very wealthy. ” 

But Maud resolutely put her mother’s clinging arms away 
from her. “Jake is not vulgar,” she said in a voice that 
sounded flat and tired. “And I have promised to marry 
him. Nothing can make any difference to that now.” 

“My dear! What nonsense! I will get Giles to talk to 
him. How can you dream of such a thing, you who might 
have married Lord Saltash — and may yet! There is no 
knowing. Maud, dearest, you must be reasonable. You 
must indeed. This Jake Bolton may be a very excellent 
man, a very worthy man, but as a husband for you he would 
be utterly unsuitable. Surely you can see that for yourself! 
I can’t imagine what possessed you to entertain such an 
idea for a moment. It was rank presumption on his part 


II2 


The Hundredth Chance 


to dare to lift his eyes to you. Why, my dear, if yon were 
to marry him your life would be an absolute thraldom. 
You mustn’t think of it, dear child. You mustn’t indeed. 
Why, he is not much better than a stable-boy. And his 
speech ” 

“He has spent a good deal of his time among cowboys. ” i; 
Maud was still firmly trying to disengage herself. “His 
speech is more or less acquired. In any case — in any case — 

I have given him my promise. And you had better not let 
Mr. Sheppard interfere. It would be wise of him to keep 
out of Jake’s way in fact. Jake knows exactly why I am 
prepared to marry him. ” 

“My dear! You actually made a confidant of that : 
dreadful person! How could you?” 

“ I wanted a man to protect me, ” Maud said very bitterly, 
“from the vindictive savagery of a brute!” 

“Maud! How can you talk so? And I am- sure Jake 
Bolton is much more of a brute than poor Giles. Why, look 
at the man! Look at his mouth, his eyes! They absolutely 
stamp him. Oh, dear, you’re very headstrong and difficult. 

I begin to think Giles had some excuse after all. Perhaps 
your uncle will be able to manage you. You are quite 
beyond me.” 

Maud almost laughed. “When does he arrive?” she i 
asked. 

“This evening. He has asked us to reserve a room for 
him.” Mrs. Sheppard had speedily developed a proprie- i 
tary interest in the management of the hotel. Its welfare \ 
had become far more engrossing than that of her children. 

Maud opened the door. “We shall be gone by that time. 
Jake’s finding us rooms somewhere in the town. ” 

Mrs. Sheppard held up her hands. “Jake finding rooms! 
Maud! how — scandalous! How do you know — you don’t 
know! — that he is to be trusted?” 

Maud made a brief gesture as of one who submits to the : 


The Way of Escape 113 

inevitable. *‘I trust him,” she said, with that in her voice 
that stilled all further protest. 

And with the words she passed with finality out of her 
mother’s room, and went away upstairs without a backward 
glance. 

Mrs. Sheppard sat down and shed a few petulant tears 
over her child’s waywardness. “She never would listen to 
advice,” was the burden of her lament. “If she had, she 
would have been happily married to Lord Saltash by now, 
and I might have had my house in London to-day. Oh 
dear, oh dear! Children are a bitter disappointment. 
They never can be made to see what is for their own good. 
She’ll rue the day. I know she will. That trainer man has 
a will of iron. He’ll break her to it like one of his horses. 
My poor, proud Maud!” 

8 


CHAPTER XV 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


WAY of escape! A way of escape! How often during 



r\ the hours of that endless day were those words in 
Maud’s mind. They pursued her, they mocked her, which- 
ever way she turned. 

To Jake she merely very briefly imparted the news of her 
uncle’s expected advent, and he received it without com- 
ment. 

Bunny was much more speculative. He had been some- 
what carried out of himself by the trend of events. It was 
Jake who whispered to him the amazing information of his 
sudden conquest, together with a very strenuous injunc- 
tion not to talk to Maud about it unless she started the 
subject. And Maud, for some reason, could not start it. 
She went through all the necessary arrangements for their 
removal as one in a dream, scarcely speaking at all, respond- 
ing very occasionally to Bunny’s eager surmises respecting ; 
the unknown great-uncle who had never before taken the , 
faintest interest in them, or shown himself so much as | 
aware of their existence. His coming did not seem to I 
matter to her. If indeed he were about to offer her a way ' 
of escape, it could not matter to her now. The door that J 
led thither had closed, closed in the night, because her j 
mother had been too tired to seek her out and tell her. I 
The irony of it! The bitter cruel irony! She dared not 
pause to think. 


The Closed Door 


115 

Jake spent a great part of the day with them, working 
with a will to get them comfortably settled in their new 
quarters before the fall of the early dusk. After that, he 
remained to tea; but he devoted almost the whole of his 
attention to Bunny, who had in fact come to regard it as 
his right. 

He left soon after, refusing to remain for the game of 
chess for which the lad earnestly pleaded. 

“Not to-night, my son! Your brain has got to settle 
down. It’s a deal too lively at present. ” 

He bent over Bunny at parting, and whispered a few 
words that were inaudible to Maud. Then he turned to 

go- 

She followed him to the outer door. The evening air 
smote chill and salt upon her, and she shivered involun- 
tarily. Jake stopped to light a cigarette. 

“I shan’t be coming round to-morrow,” he remarked 
then. “ I shall be too busy. But I’ll look in on Saturday, 
and tell you what I’ve fixed up. Will Sunday morning do 
all right if I can fix it?” 

She shivered again. “Yes,” she said. 

“Say, you’re cold,” said Jake gently. “I mustn’t keep 
you standing here. But you really meant that Yes?” 

He looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were kindly. 
She held out her hand with a desperate little smile. 

“Yes, I meant it.” 

His hand closed strongly, sustainingly, upon hers. 
“Guess there’s nothing to be scared of,” he said. “I’ll 
take care of you, sure. ” 

She felt a sudden lump rise in her throat, and found she 
could not speak. 

“You’re tired,” said Jake softly. “Go and get a good 
night I It’s what you’re wanting. ” 

“Yes, I am tired,” she managed to say. 

He still held her hand, looking at her with those strange, 


ii6 


The Hundredth Chance 


glittering eyes of his that seemed to pierce straight through 
all reserve and enter even the hidden inner sanctuary of her 
soul. 

“What’s this relative of yours like now?’’ he asked 
unexpectedly. 

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen 
him.” 

“Think he’s coming along to offer you a home?” asked 
Jake. 

Her face burned suddenly and hotly. For some reason 
she resented the question. “I don’t know. How can I 
possibly know?” 

“All right,” said Jake imperturbably. “But in case he 
does, I’d like you to know that you are at liberty to do as 
you please in the matter. He’ll tell you, maybe, that I’m 
not the man for you. That, I gather, is your mother’s 
attitude. I sensed it from the beginning. If he does, and 
if you feel inclined to agree with him, you’re free to do so, — 
free as air. But at the same time, I’d like you to remember 
that if you should accept anything from him and then not find 
it to your liking, you can still come along to me and follow 
out the original programme. I’m only wanting to make you 
comfortable. ” 

He stopped; and in the pause that followed, Maud’s 
other hand came out to him, shyly yet impulsively. “You 
are — such a good fellow!” she said with a catch in her 
voice. 

“Oh, bunkum!” said Jake, in a tone of almost indignant 
remonstrance. 

He held her two hands, and turning, spat forth his cig- 
arette into the night; an action of primitive simplicity that 
filled Maud with a grotesque kind of horrified mirth, mirth 
so intense that she had a sudden, hysterical desire to laugh. 
She restrained herself with a desperate effort. < 

s“Good night!” she said, with something of urgency in 


The Closed Door 


117 


her voice. “ It isn’t bunkum at all. It’s the truth. You — 
I think you are the best friend I ever had. But — but ” 

“But—” said Jake. 

She freed her hands with a little gasp. “Nothing,” she 
said. ‘ ‘ Good night ! ’ ’ 

It was a final dismissal, and as such he accepted it. She 
heard the steady fall of his feet as he went away, and with 
his going she managed to recover her composure. 

There was an undeniable greatness about him that seemed 
to dwarf all criticism. She realized that to measure him by 
ordinary standards was out of the question, and as she re- 
viewed all that he had done for her that day a gradual 
warmth began to glow in her. There was no other friend 
in all her world who would have extended to her so firm or so 
comforting a support in her hour of adversity. And if her 
face burned at the memory of her own utter collapse in his 
presence, she could but recall with gratitude and with 
confidence the steadfast kindness with which he had upheld 
her. She had gone to him in anguished despair, and he had 
offered her the utmost that he had to offer. As to his 
motives for so doing, she had a feeling that he had deliber- 
ately refrained from expressing them. He wanted her 
and he wanted Bunny. Perhaps he was lonely. Perhaps 
years of wandering had created in him a longing for home 
and domestic comfort. 

But she did not speculate very deeply upon that subject. 
She felt that she could not. There was something in the 
man’s nature, something colossal of which she was but 
dimly aware, and which she had no means of gauging, that 
checked her almost at the outset. She found herself stand- 
ing before a closed door, a door which she had neither the 
audacity nor the' desire to attempt to open. She was even 
a little fearful lest one day that door should open to her of 
its own accord and she should be constrained to enter 
whether she would or not. 


ii8 


The Hundredth Chance 


But on the whole that talk with Jake had calmed her. 
The man was so temperate, so completely master of himself, 
and withal so staunch in the friendship he had established 
with her, that she could not but feel reassured. There was 
a delicacy in his consideration for her that warmed her 
heart. She knew by every instinct of her being that he 
would take care of her as he had promised. And she wanted 
someone to take care of her so badly, so badly. 

She was so deadly tired of fending for herself. 

She found Bunny in a mood of remarkable docility, and 
she managed to get him to bed without much trouble. 
He also was worn out after two nights of restlessness, and 
he fell asleep earlier than usual. 

She herself sat for awhile in the little sitting-room with a 
book, but she found she could not read. She was too tired 
to fix her attention, and the thought of Jake kept intruding 
itself whenever she attempted to do so. It was wonderful 
how she had come to rely upon him, knowing so little of 
him. He had always been far more to Bunny than to her. 

She was drifting into a kind of semi-doze, still with the 
memory of him passing and repassing through her brain, 
when there came the sound of a bell in the house, and almost 
immediately after, the opening of the sitting-room door. 

She started up in surprise to see her landlady usher in a 
little, spare grey-whiskered man who walked with a strut 
and cleared his throat as he came with a noise like the 
growling of a dog. He made her think irresistibly of a 
Scotch terrier bristling for a fight. 

He halted in the middle of the room, and banged with his 
umbrella on the floor, as one demanding a hearing. 

“Hullo!” he said. “My name’s Warren. You, I take 
it, are Maud Brian. If so, I’m your Uncle Edward. ” 

Maud came forward, still feeling a little dazed. Since 
Jake’s departure she had almost forgotten the approaching 
advent of this relative of hers. 


The Closed Door 


119 

“How do you do?“ she said. “Yes,. I am Maud Brian. 
Come and sit down!” 

He took her hand, looking at her with small grey eyes that 
were keenly critical. 

“How old are you?” he demanded. 

“I am twenty-five,” said Maud, faintly smiling. 

He uttered a grunting growl and sat down with a jerk. 
“I’ve come straight from your mother to talk to you. 
She’s a fool, always was. I hope you’re not another.” 

“Thank you,” said Maud sedately. 

He brought his shaggy grey brows together. “I’ve 
come the length of England to see you, but I haven’t any 
time to waste. I’m going back to-morrow. That letter 
of yours — I meant to answer it, but business pressed, and it 
had to stand over. Then I decided to come and see what 
sort of young woman you were before I did anything further. 
I couldn’t stand a replica of your mother in my house. 
But — thank goodness — you’re not much like her. She 
tells me you’re thinking of making a marriage of convenience 
to get away from your step-father. Now, that’s a very 
serious step for a young woman to contemplate. It seems 
to me I’ve turned up in the nick of time. ” 

Maud, sitting facing him with her hands folded in her 
lap, still faintly smiled. The bluntness with which he 
tackled the situation appealed more to her sense of humour 
than to any other emotion. She realized that he was ac- 
tually about to offer her a way of escape, but, curiously, she 
no longer felt any desire to avail herself of it. By his gen- 
erous assurance that she was at liberty to do as she would, 
Jake had somehow managed to range her on his side. She 
did not want to escape any more. Moreover, there was 
Bunny to be thought of. She knew well in what direction 
his desires — and his welfare also — lay. 

“It was very kind of you to come,” she said. “But, as 
regards my marriage, my mind is quite made up. He — the 


122 The Hundredth Chance 

fact. “And then there is, Bunny to be thought of,” she 
said. 

“Bunny? Who is Bunny? Oh, your brother, is it? And 
he’s a hopeless cripple, I understand? Is it for his sake that 
you’ve hatched this mad scheme?” 

“In a great measure. You see, he and — and Jake Bolton 
are very fond of one another.” 

“Pshaw!” the old man exclaimed. “So this Jake Bolton 
is to have the boy, with you thrown in as a makeweight; 
is that it? And you think you’re all going to be happy 
together, do you? Never heard such a tomfool scheme in 
my life. Where does this Jake Bolton hang out? I’ll go 
and have a talk to him.” 

“Oh, please don’t!” Maud begged. “He’ll think I sent 
you. And really — really there is nothing to discuss. ” 

“We’ll see about that,” he rejoined grimly. “Seems to 
me it’s high time somebody came along and interfered. 
Now, look here, what’s your name? — Maud! I’m going to 
get you out of this mess. You shan’t marry a man you 
don’t love just because there was no other way out. There 
is another way out, and you’re to take it. You’re to come 
and live with me, do you hear? You and your precious 
Bunny too! And when I die. I’ll leave you both provided 
for. See? Come, I can’t say fairer than that.” 

He was still gripping her hand, and looking at her with 
shrewd eyes under their beetling brows as though prepared 
to beat down all opposition. There was a 'look of Bunny 
about those eyes. Bunny in a difficult mood. She recog- 
nized it with a sigh. It seemed her fate to be continually 
doing battle with someone, and she felt wholly unfitted for 
it. All she asked of life was peace and quietness. 

“ My home is a dingy one, ” said her uncle, “but you may 
be able to make it more cheerful. I shan’t interfere with 
either of you. Come, now, you’re going to be a sensible 
girl, hey? I’m sorry I didn’t turn up before. But the knot 


The Closed Door 


123 


isn t tied, so I^m not too late. We must explain the situa- 
tion to the young man. Unless he’s an absolute bounder, 
he’ll be amenable to reason. ” 

But Maud shook her head. “ I can’t do it, Uncle Edward. 
I know you mean to be kind. I am very grateful. But— 
I can’t.” 

He rasped his throat aggressively. '‘That’s nonsense,” 
he said with decision. ‘‘Plainly the man is beneath you. 
You say you don’t love him, and never could. ” 

“I am not — altogether — sure that he is beneath me,” she 
said rather wistfully. 

“But you don’t love him?” her uncle insisted, scanning 
her piercingly. 

She bent her head with an instinctive desire to avoid his 
eyes. “No.” 

” Or anyone else ? ” he pursued. 

She made a small movement of protest. 

“Ha!” he exclaimed, in the tone of one who has dis- 
covered something. “Your mother hinted as much. And 
you think you’re going to make things better for yourself 
by marriage with a rank outsider. Is that it ? Is that it ? 
Then take my word for it, you’re going to make the biggest 
mistake of your life. And if you persist in it, I’ve done with 
you. At least, no, I haven’t done; for I’m going straight to 
that young man of yours to tell him the sort of bargain he’s 
going to make. ” 

He paused, for suddenly Maud had drawn herself up very 
straight and proud. ” If you wish to do so, you must, ” she 
said, and her pale face was very regal and composed. ” But 
it will not make the smallest difference to either of us. 
Jake has my promise. I have his. ” 

It was at this point that the door opened again to admit 
the landlady with a note on a salver. 

“Mr. Bolton’s compliments,” she said, “and will you be 
good enough to send back an answer? ” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE CHAMPION 

M aud took the note with a glance at her uncle. 

“Open it!” he said. “Don’t mind me!” and 
stumped irately to the bay-window and pulled aside the 
blind. 

Maud opened the note. Her hands were not very steady. 
The envelope contained a half-sheet of notepaper with a 
few words scrawled thereupon, and a short length of string. 

“Sorry to trouble you, ” ran the note. “ But will you tie 
a knot in the enclosed to show me the size of your wedding : 
finger? Yours, Jake. ” 

She looked up from the note as her uncle came tramping : 
back. “ Is it the young man himself ? ” he demanded. 

“It’s Mr. Bolton, sir,” said the landlady. 

“ Then s.how him in ! ” ordered the old man autocratically, ii 
“Show him in, and we’ll get it over! No time like the ? 
present.” 

A swift remonstrance rose to Maud’s lips, but she did not fi 
utter it. The landlady looked to her for confirmation of ;i 
the order, but she did not utter a single word. J 

“Get along!” commanded Uncle Edward. “Or I’ll f 
fetch him in myself ! ” 

A whiff of tobacco-smoke came in through the open door. 
Maud stood very still, listening. A moment later there: 
came the sound of a pipe being tapped on the heel of a boot, 
and then the firm, quiet tread of Jake’s feet in the passage. 

124 ; 


125 


The Champion 

He entered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you again, but 
rd forgotten this little detail and I’ve got to catch an early 
train. ” He turned with no sign of surprise and regarded 
Maud’s visitor. “Good evening, sir!’’ he said. 

Mr. Warren gave him a brief nod. Maud still stood mute, 
Jake’s note with the piece of string dangling therefrom in 
her hand. 

He went quietly to her. “ Say ! Let me fix that for you I ’ ’ 
he said. 

She suffered him to take her hand. It lay cold and 
quivering in. his. He wound the string round her third 
finger and knotted it. Then he slipped it off, and took the 
hand closely and warmly into his own. 

“ I hope you haven’t come to forbid the banns, ’’ he said, 
calmly returning the grim scrutiny that the old man had 
levelled at him from the moment of his entrance. 

Uncle Edward uttered a sound indicative of intense dis- 
gust. “I? Oh, I’ve no authority,” he said. “I disap- 
prove — if that’s what you mean. Any decent person would 
disapprove of the sort of alliance you two are determined to 
make. But I don’t expect my opinion to be deferred to. 
If you choose to marry a woman who doesn’t care two straws 
about you, it’s your affair, not mine. ” 

Jake turned in his deliberate fashion to Maud. “Your 
uncle, I presume?” he said. 

“ Yes, ” she made answer. 

His face wore a smile that baffled her, as he said: “It’s 
my opinion that we should get on better alone together, 
though it’s for you to decide. ” 

She looked at him rather piteously, and as if in answer to 
that look Jake slipped a steady arm about her. 

“What about the head of the family?” he said, speaking 
softly almost as if to a child. “Reckon he’ll be wanting 
you. Won’t you go to him?” 

The slight pressure of his arm directed her towards the 


126 


The Hundredth Chance 


door. She yielded to it instinctively, with an abrupt feeling 
that the matter had been taken out of her hands. 

He went with her into the passage, and they stood for a 
moment together under the flickering lamp. 

"‘Bimny in bed?” he asked. 

‘‘Yes, ” she said. 

He was still faintly smiling. “You go to bed too, my 
girl ! ” he said. “I’ll settle this old firebrand. ” 

“Don’t — quarrel with him, Jake!” she said nervously. 

“What should I quarrel about?” said Jake. “Good 
night, forlorn princess!” 

His voice had a note in it that was almost motherly. 
She went from him with a distinct sense of comfort. His 
touch had been so strong and withal so gentle. 

As for Jake, he turned back into the room with the ut- 
most confldence and shut himself in with an air of decision. 

“Now, sir,” he said, “if you’ve any complaint to make, 
p’raps you’ll be good enough to mention it to me right now, 
and I’ll deal with the same. I’m not going to have my girl 
bullied any more. ” 

His voice was quiet, even slightly drawling, but his eyes 
shone with something of a glare. He came straight to the 
old man, who still leaned on his umbrella, and stood before 
him. 

The latter gazed at him ferociously, and for a space they 
remained thus, stubbornly fixing each other. Then abruptly 
the old man spoke. 

“You’re very masterful, young fellow-my-lad. I sup- 
pose you think yourself one of the lords of creation, good 
enough for anybody, hey?” 

Jake’s stern face relaxed slowly. “ I don’t claim to be a 
prince of the blood, ” he said, “but I reckon I’ve got some — 
points. ” 

“And you reckon you’re good enough to marry my niece ? ’* 
snapped Uncle Edward. 


The Champion 127 

Jake squared his shoulders. “I shall make her a better 
husband than some, ” he said. 

The old man smote the floor with his umbrella. “Shall 
you? And has she told you that she’s in love with another 
man?” 

Jake’s right hand went suddenly deep into his pocket and 
remained there. “I am aware that she was once, ” he said, 
speaking very deliberately. “But that is over. Also, he 
was not the man for her.” 

“A scoundrel, hey? Not a sound man like yourself?” 
There was a malicious note in the query, but Jake ignored 
it. 

“He does not count anyway,” he said, with finality. 
“If he did, your niece wouldn’t have come to me for pro- 
tection. I believe she appealed to you first, but you had 
more important things to attend to. With me it was 
otherwise, and so I consider that I have a greater right to be 
her protector than anyone else in the world. ” 

“ Do you? ” said Uncle Edward. “ That means you’re in 
love with her, I suppose?” 

Jake’s eyes fenced with his. “You may take it to mean 
that if it pleases you to do so, ” he said. 

The old man raked his throat pugnaciously. “It’s 
damn’ presumption. I tell you that,” he ‘said. 

“That may be, ” said Jake, unmoved. 

“But it doesn’t alter your intentions, hey ? You’re one of 
the cussed sort, I can see. Well, look here, young man! 
ni make you a proposal. You seem to think I’ve neglected 
my duty, though heaven knows these Brians have no claims 
on me. But I’ve taken a fancy to the girl. She’s gentle, 
which is more than can be said for most of your modern 
young women. So you just listen to me for a minute! 
You’re on a wrong tack altogether. Courting should come 
before marriage, not after. You may marry first and you 
may think for a time that all is going to be well between you. 


128 


The Hundredth Chance 


but there’ll come a day when you’ll wake up and find that 
in spite of all you haven’t won her. And that’ll mean mis- 
ery for you both. Don’t you do it, young man! You’ll 
find the game’s not worth the candle. You have a little 
patience 1 Let the girl come to me for a bit ! I may be old, 
but I’ll protect her. And if you care to come after her, and 
do a little courting now and then, well — it’s not a very 
brilliant match for her, but I shan’t forbid it. ” 

He ceased to speak. There seemed to be a smile in the 
eyes that watched him, but there was no suggestion of it 
about Jake’s mouth, which was slightly compressed. 

That’s all very well, sir,” he said in his slow quiet way. 
“But have you laid this proposal of yours before Miss 
Brian herself?” 

Uncle Edward made a sound of impatience. “She can 
think of no one but her brother. She’ll agree fast enough 
when she realizes that it’s the only thing to do. ” 

“Will she?” said Jake. “And have you put it to her in 
that light?” 

The old man coughed and made no reply. 

Jake went on with the utmost composure. “You offer 
her a home where she can continue to be a slave to her 
brother. You don’t propose to lift the burden at all, to 
ease her life, to make her happy. You wouldn’t know where 
to begin. You are ready and anxious to deliver her from 
me. But there your goodness starts and finishes. You 
talk of my damnable presumption. ” A ruddy glitter like 
the flicker of a flame dispelled the hint of humour from the 
lynx-like eyes. “That is just your point of view. But I 
reckon I’m nearer to her — several lengths nearer — than 
you or any other man. She hasn’t brought all her troubles 
to you and cried her heart out in your arms, has she ? No, — 
nor ever will — now! You’ve come too late, sir, — too late 
by just twelve hours! You may keep your money and 
your home to yourself! The girl is mine. ” 


129 


The Champion 

A deep note suddenly sounded in the man’s voice, and 
Uncle Edward was abruptly made aware of a lion in his path. 

He backed at once. He had not the smallest desire for an 
encounter with the savage beast. 

“Tut, tut!” he said. “You talk like a Red Indian. I 
wasn’t proposing to deprive you of her; only to give the girl 
a free hand and you the chance of winning her. If you take 
her without, there’ll be the devil to pay sooner or later; J 
can tell you that. But, if you won’t take the chance' I 
offer, that’s your affair entirely. I have no more to say. ” 

“I am taking a different sort of chance,” Jake said. 
“And I have a suspicion that it’s less of a gamble than the 
one you suggest. In any case, I’ve put my money on it, and 
there it’ll stay. ” 

He looked Uncle Edward straight in the eyes a moment, 
and then broke into his sudden, disarming smile. 

“Can’t you stop over the week-end now and give her 
away?” he asked persuasively. “Her mother seems to 
shy at the notion. ” 

“Her mother always was a fool,” said Uncle Edward 
irascibly. Here at least was a safe object upon which to 
vent his indignation! “The biggest fool that ever lived! 
What on earth men found to like in her I never could under- 
stand. Oh yes. I’ll give the girl away. If you’re so set on 
getting married at once. I’d better stop and see that it’s 
done properly. Lucy never did anything properly in her 
life.” 

“Thank you,” said Jake. “You are most kind— and 
considerate. ” 

“Mark you, that doesn’t mean that I approve,” warned 
the old man. “It’s a hare-brained scheme altogether, but 
I suppose I owe it to my family to see that it’s done on the 
square. ” 

Jake had suddenly become extremely suave. “That is 
very benevolent of you, sir, ” he said. 


9 


130 


The Hundredth Chance 


“I regard it as my duty, ” said Uncle Edward gruffly. 

He had never been called benevolent before, and the 
term was not altogether to his liking. It seemed safer to 
accept it, however, without question. There was an un- 
known element about this young man that was in some 
fashion formidable. An odd respect mingled with his first 
contempt. The fellow might be a bounder, — he was not 
absolutely decided upon that head — but, as he himself 
had modestly stated, he had some points. By marrying 
him, his young niece was about to commit a very rash act, 
but it was possible — ^just possible — that it might not lead to 
utter disaster. It was not a marriage of which he could 
approve, but the man seemed solid, and certainly he himself 
had no urgent desire to take in the girl and her cripple 
brother. Altogether, though he did not like to think that 
his advice had been ignored, and though at the back of his f 
mind there lurked a vague uneasiness not unmixed with self- i 
reproach, it seemed that matters might have been consider- | 
ably worse. 

“Don’t you tyrannize over her now!” he said to Jake at K 
parting. “You’ve got a fighting face, young fellow-my-lad. 
But you bear in mind, she’s a woman, and — unless I am 
much mistaken — she is not the sort to stand it. ” 

“I don’t fight with women, sir,” said Jake somewhat 
curtly. “ I’ve other things to do. ” 

Uncle Edward smiled a dry smile. “And you’ve a few 
things to learn — yet,” he remarked enigmatically. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE WEDDING MORNING 

I T was very dark and draughty in the church. Maud 
was shivering from head to foot. Her heart felt as if it 
were encased in ice. Now and then it beat a little, feebly, 
as if trying to break free, but the awful cold was too much 
for it. She did not know how to keep her teeth from chat- 
tering. Her hands lay in her lap, numbed and nerveless. 
She wondered if she would ever manage to walk as far as 
the dimly lit altar where Jake would be awaiting her. 

It was evidently draughty there also. The candles 
flickered fitfully. Uncle Edward was eyeing the candles 
with obvious disapproval. She hoped he would manage 
to suppress it at close quarters. She was sure she would 
have to laugh if he didn’t, and laughter, she felt, would be 
fatal. 

How different this from the wedding-day which once she 
had dared to picture for herself! It was like a mocking 
fantasy, a dreadful travesty of that which might have been. 
Like an arc of prismatic colours it himg before her — the 
vision of that other wedding — the wedding of her dreams; 
the sunshine and the laughter and the flowers! The shin- 
ing altar, ;ihe waiting bridegroom, his flashing smile of 
welcome! She saw it all — she saw it all! 

How dear he had been to her! How, unutterably dear! 
And she remembered how in those far-off days he had always 
called her his Queen Rose. 

131 


132 


The Hundredth Chance 


Her heart gave a swift throb that was anguish. She 
stood up with a quick, involuntary movement. She had 
not dreamed that this long-past trouble possessed the power 
to hurt her so. She cast a desperate glance around her. 
This waiting in the cold and the dark had become intoler- 
able. A wild impulse to flee — to flee — was upon her. The 
door was quite near. She turned towards it. 

But in that moment Uncle Edward cleared his throat and 
rose. 

“Here comes your precious bridegroom!” he said. “I 
suppose they’re ready at last. We had better get moving. ” 

And then it was that Maud’s knees abruptly refused to 
support her, and she sank down again white and powerless 
on the chair by the door. 

Jake’s sturdy figure was coming down the aisle. She 
watched it with eyes that were wide and fixed. 

He came straight to her, bent over her. “I’m real sorry 
you’ve been kept waiting, ” he said, in his womanly drawl. 
“It’s the parson’s doing. He forgot all about us. And ; 
there was no fire either. I had to force the door of the stoke 
shed to light it. ” 

He bent a little lower over her, and suddenly she felt his 
hand against the icy cold of her cheek. She started back 
from it. 

“Jake, I — can’t come yet. I’m so cold.” Stiffly her : 
pale lips whispered the words; her whole body seemed i 
bound in a very rigour of cold. And through it all she still I 
thought she could hear phantom echoes of that other wed- i 
ding that once had seemed so near. 

(I l“ Where is your mother? ” said Jake. 

There was a hint of sternness in the question. Uncle 'i 
Edward answered it. 

“I’m expecting them every minute. I drove up first to t 
fetch Maud. Lucy is a hopeless fool. She’s never in time 
for an3d;hing. ” 


The Wedding Morning 133 

Even as he spoke, there came the rush of wheels on the 
hard road outside and the hoot of a motor horn. 

The sound as it reached Maud, seemed to galvanize her 
into sudden energy. She rose, white to the lips but reso- 
lute. am ready, she said. 

Jake gave her a straight, hard look, and turned without 
another word. He went back up the aisle, square, purpose- 
ful, steady, and took up his stand by the waiting clergyman. 

Maud’s hand pressed her uncle’s arm with urgency. 
“Let us go! Let us go!’’ she said. “I can see my 
mother — afterwards. ’ ’ 

The old man also gave her a shrewd glance, but he also 
said no word. Only as he stumped up the aisle beside her, 
he took the girlish hand upon his arm and held it hard in 
his gnarled fingers. 

They had reached the chancel steps where the clergy- 
man awaited them ere the opening of the door and the sound 
of fluttering feet announced the arrival of Maud’s mother. 
A heavier tread and a man’s loud whisper and barely 
muffled laugh testified to the presence of Giles Sheppard 
also. 

Uncle Edward cleared his throat ferociously, releasing 
Maud’s hand with a mighty squeeze as Jake came to her 
side. Then he turned with deliberation and scowled upon 
the advancing couple. 

Maud did not turn. Her face was white and still as the 
face of a marble statue. Her eyes stared blankly at the 
flickering candles on the altar. Had Jake lighted those 
candles, she wondered, as well as the fire in the stoke 
shed? 

She heard her mother’s step behind her, but still she did 
not move; and after the briefest pause the clergyman began 
to read the service. 

It was all horribly unreal. The only thing of which she 
was vividly and poignantly conscious was the cold. She 


134 


The Hundredth Chance 


heard Jake’s voice beside her, very calm and steady, and 
when her turn came she spoke with equal steadiness, for 
somehow she seemed to be imbued with his strength. But 
she was too frozen, too ice-bound, to feel any meaning in the 
words she uttered. She spoke them like an automaton, 
through lips that would scarcely move. 

Jake’s hand, warm and purposeful, holding her own, sent 
a faint, faint glow through her; but it did not reach her 
heart. She thought it had ceased to beat long ago, and 
she wondered how soon he would realize that he was wedded 
to a dead woman, what he would say when he knew. For 
Jake was so essentially full-blooded, so burningly alive. He 
was the most virile person she had ever met. Standing 
there by his side, she could feel the warmth of him. She 
thought it was that alone that kept her from turning into 
a solid block of ice. 

When she knelt, his hand came under her elbow and sup- 
ported her; when she rose, it lifted her. V/hen the dreadful 
nightmare service was over at last, his arm was roimd her, 
and by its aid alone she stumbled stiffly to the vestry. 

The young curate who had married them looked at her 
with nervous solicitude. He had been recently married 
himself, and he had a painfully vivid memory of the agonies 
thereof. 

He set a chair for her, and Jake put her down into it. i 
Then he stood up and took command of the situation. 

'‘Get a glass from somewhere!” he said to the curate. * 
“And you, sir,” he turned upon Uncle Edward, “don’t let i 
that man come in here! Her mother can if she likes, but ^ 
I won’t have anyone else.” 

He stooped over Maud, looking closely into her deathlike 1 
face. He took her frozen hands and held them up to his i 
lips, breathing on them. 

Her great eyes gazed up at him in mute apology. She ( 
felt he had begun to find out. j 


135 


The Wedding Morning 

“It’s all right, my girl, “ he said in answer, “ all right. “ 

And then her mother came to her, and surprised Maud at 
least by folding her close in her arms and fondly kissing her 
poor numbed lips. 

“Why, Maudie, darling,” she murmured to her tenderly 
as though she were a child again, “what is it, dearie? What 
is it?” 

The words, the embrace, moved Maud, piercing straight 
to her frozen heart. She turned with a passionate, inarticu- 
late sound and hid her face on her mother’s breast. 

“My precious! My own girlie!” said Mrs. Sheppard? 
and gathered her closer still. 

There followed a brief, brief interval of peace while she 
rested in the sheltering arms that had not held her since her 
babyhood. Then she heard Jake’s voice close to her bowed 
head. 

“ Maud, I want you to drink this. ” 

She stirred uneasily, and was aware of her mother’s 
tears^^opping on her face. 

Iftfen again came Jake’s voice, quite courteous but ex- 
tremely decided. “I am afraid I must trouble you, Mrs. 
Sheppard. She is half-dead with cold.” 

Mrs. Sheppard gave a little sob and relaxed her hold. 
“ Maud — my darling, here is some brandy and water. Will 
you try and drink it? Mother will hold the glass.” 

But it was Jake’s hand that held it, guiding it steadily 
to the cold, blue lips; and it was in response to his insistence, 
and not of her own volition at all, that Maud drank the 
fiery mixture he had prepared. 

She shuddered over it, but it revived her almost immedi- 
ately. She felt the blood begin to stir in her veins, her 
heart begin to beat. 

“That’s right,” said Jake, and she saw his smile for the 
first time that wintry morning and felt the better for it. 
“ Now, sit quiet for a minute or two till you feel well enough 


136 


The Hundredth Chance 


to sign the register! Mrs. Sheppard, I think your husband 
wants to speak to you.’^ 

“Oh, dear I ’ ’ sobbed Mrs. Sheppard. ‘ ‘ He’s always want- 
ing something.” 

Maud gently released herself. “You had better go to 
him. Mother, dear. You can bring him in if you like. I 
am quite all right now. ” 

Her eyes met Jake’s as her mother tearfully departed. 
Something like a glance of intimacy passed between them. 
She held out her hand to him, and he took it and held it, 
so that some of his abundant strength seemed to communi- 
cate itself to her. 

“I don’t want your mother to upset you,” he said. 

She dismissed the notion with a smile. “I am quite 
ready to sign now. Let us get it over, shall we? I want 
to go back to Bunny. ” 

His hand relinquished hers. He turned to the table. 
“The sooner the better,” he said, in a tone of cool delibera- 
tion. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE WEDDING NIGHT 

I T was over. Maud sat before the open fireplace in 
Jake’s oak-panelled parlour, gazing into the red heart of 
the fire with a stunned sense of finality, a feeling that she 
had been overtaken and made prisoner by Fate. She was 
terribly tired. Every limb seemed weighted as if with iron 
fetters. She longed with a sick longing for sleep and 
oblivion. She ached for solitude and repose. 

Overhead she could hear Jake moving. He was helping 
Bunny to prepare for the night, by Bunny’s own decree. 
Very soon he would come*down again, and she would have 
to rouse herself and make conversation. She wondered 
wearily how she would do it. 

The best room in the house had been given to Bunny. 
Out of it led a smaller room in which she could sleep and be 
within call when he needed her. Jake had made every 
provision he could think of for their comfort. She felt 
that she ought to be very grateful to him; but somehow 
she was too tired for gratitude. And she could not con- 
centrate her thoughts; they wandered so. 

Now it was the glint of the firelight on her wedding-ring 
that drew them. It shone with a burning, intolerable 
sparkle that somehow reminded her of Jake — and the look 
in his eyes when he had said — But she pulled her mind up 
short at this point, with a sharp, involuntary shiver. She 
would not dwell on that thought. She would bury it deep, 
137 


138 The Hundredth Chance 

deep, far below all others. For she knew she would never 
cast it out. 

She clenched her hand and covered the ring from sight. 

The thought of Uncle Edward presented itself, and she 
seized upon it with relief. He had been with them during 
the greater part of the day, and had left but an hour before to 
catch the night train to town. He had been very kind to 
her, and had taken a shrewd interest in Bunny. Just at 
parting he had drawn her aside for a moment, looking at her 
with his sharp eyes under their shaggy brows with just the 
look of a terrier on the hunt. 

“And if at any time you should be in need of a change 
of air, my dear,” he had said, “don’t forget that you’ve 
got an old uncle at Liverpool who wouldn’t be sorry to see 
you — and the boy too — however busy he happened to be. ” 

He had meant that as an offer of help, should she ever 
stand in need of it. She had recognized that, though 
neither he nor she had emphasized the fact. He foresaw a 
possibility of difficulties ahead with which she might be 
unable to cope single-handed. He wanted her to know that 
she would never call upon him a second time in vain. She 
had thanked him with simplicity, and now she registered 
the offer in her mind. Almost unconsciously, she had begun ; 
already to seek for a way of escape, should her captivity 
become at any time unendurable. 

For a captive she undoubtedly was. She had given her- 
self, voluntarily but completely, into the keeping of a man 
whom she felt she hardly knew, — a man who had shown 
her every consideration in his power, but upon whom even 1 
yet she was half-afraid to lean. Full of kindness as she ( 
had found him to be she knew instinctively that he possessed » 
other qualities, was capable of other impulses. Something r 
of the caged beast, something of the pirate on shore, there ^ 
was about him. He was quiet, he was considerate, he was 
kind. But on his own ground, in his own element, would he 


139 


The Wedding Night 

be always thus? Would he be always the generous captor, 
the steadfast friend? Her heart misgave her a little. 
Words that Giles Sheppard had uttered only that morning 
arose suddenly in her memory, gibing words that sent the 
hot blood again to her cheeks. 

“Ah, he’s a deep one, is Jake. What he gives with one 
hand he takes with the other and more to it. He’s not the 
man to make a one-sided bargain. But he knows how to bide 
his time. He hasn’t saddled himself with a penniless 
wife and a hunchback brother-in-law just for the fun of the 
thing. He’ll be getting his own back presently, and I think 
I can guess who’ll pay the piper. ” 

Bitter words! Cruel words! Flung in her face for the 
malignant pleasure of seeing her wince! 

She had not winced. She was glad to remember that. 
She had turned her back on the man’s hateful, sneering face. 
He had humbled her to the earth once, but he would never 
have another opportunity. Henceforth Jake stood between 
her and all the world. She had bought his protection at a 
price, and she knew it for a weapon that would never fail 
her. As to the price, she would pay him in service and 
obedience. It might be he would never ask more of her 
than these. Life was short, and she was very tired. Why 
should she fret herself over that which might never come to 
pass? She closed her eyes from the red glow of the fire, 
and lay still. 

Yet she could not have travelled far along the dim path 
to oblivion for the quiet opening of the door a few minutes 
later brought her back in a second. She started up in her 
chair, alert, nervous, to see Jake enter in his square fashion 
and shut the door behind him. 

“Don’t disturb yourself!’’ he said. 

He came and stood before the fire, and Maud, sinking 
back into her chair, strove to calm the unreasonable inner 
tumult that his entrance had excited. 


140 The Hundredth Chance 

“Are you going to sit down and have a smoke?” she sug- 
gested. 

He gave her a side-glance that had in it a hint of humour. 
“You don’t object to being smoke-dried?” he asked, in his 
slow, gentle voice. 

“Of course I don’t, ” she said. 

He took his clay pipe from his pocket and considered it. 
It was very old, blackened, and discoloured with much use. 
He looked at her again, doubtfully. 

An odd impulse moved her unexpectedly. She sat up 
again and held out her hand. * ‘ Give it to me ! I’ll fill it for 
you. ” 

His hand closed upon it. She saw surprise in his eyes. 

“You!” he said. 

She found herself smiling. He actually looked embar- 
rassed, a fact which set her wholly at her ease. “But why 
not?” she^said. “Is it too great a treasiue to be entrusted 
to me?” 

But he still held it back. “What do you want to do it 
for?” 

She kept her hand outstretched. “As a small — very 
small — return for your goodness to Bunny, ” she said. 

His face changed a little. He put the pipe into her 
hand. “I don’t want any return, ” he said. “ Don’t do it 
for that!” 

She coloured, but she still smiled. “Very well. It is a 
favour bestowed gratis. Where’s your tobacco?” 

He fetched a pouch — nearly as ancient as the pipe — out 
of his pocket, and laid it in her lap. 

“You’re not to watch me, ” she said, speaking with anew- 
found confidence that surprised herself. “Sit down and 
read the paper 1 I’ll tell you when it’s done. ” 

He sat down opposite to her, and took up the paper. 
“You’ll make a beastly mess of your hands,” he said un- 
easily. 


The Wedding Night 141 

**Be quiet!” she said. 

He opened out the paper, and there fell a silence. 

Maud pursued her self-appointed task with mixed feelings. 
The tobacco was rank and coarse, and it smelt like mildewed 
hay. It was, moreover, nearly black, and she found herself 
fingering it with increasing disgust. She was determined 
however not to be beaten, and with compressed lips she 
pinched and poked the revolting substance, ramming it deep 
into the blackened bowl with a heroic determination to 
accomplish the business to the best of her ability, her feel- 
ings notwithstanding. 

“You're packing it too tight,” observed Jake gravely. 

She looked up half-laughing, half- vexed. “I told you 
not to watch.” 

He dropped his paper, and leaned towards her. “I 
reckon I can’t help watching you, my girl, ” he said. “ I’ve 
never seen anyone like you before. ” 

He spoke with absolute simplicity, but his directness 
struck her like a blow in the face. She lowered her eyes 
swiftly. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t done it to your satisfaction,” she 
said, in a small, cold voice, from which all hint of intimacy 
had fled. “You had better do it over again. ” 

She held out the pipe to him, and again the firelight 
gleamed golden-red on that new bright ring that he had 
placed on her finger that day. 

He leaned further forward, stretched out a quiet hand 
that grasped and held her own. 

He took the pipe from her with the utmost gentleness 
and laid it aside ; but he kept her hand, and after a moment 
he left his chair and knelt beside her. 

She did not draw back from him, but she stiffened on 
the instant. Her breathing quickened. 

There followed a silence, which she found peculiarly 
hard to bear, and which she eventually broke. 


The Hundredth Chance 


142 

“Perhaps I ought to go to Bunny for a little. He will 
feel neglected.’’ 

“He’s not expecting you,” said Jake. ”Say, — Maud!” 

“What is it?” she said. 

She strove for composure and attained an aloofness that 
startled herself. He released her hand and began to gather 
up the litter of tobacco in her lap. 

“I was going to speak to you about Bunny,” he said. 
“ I’ve settled to sleep with him to-night. ” 

“You?” She looked at him in quick siwprise. 

He was not looking at her, being too intent upon his task. 
The firelight shone red on his bent head. “Yes, I,” he 
said. “You can sleep in my room. I’ve had it got ready 
for you.” 

The calm decision with which he spoke nearly took her 
breath away. “Oh, but-^j^but — ” she began. 

He looked up, and she saw his frank, reassuring smile. 
It sent a curious thrill of relief through her. It was such a 
smile as would have gained the confidence of a child. 

“That’s all right,” he said. “Don’t you start making 
difficulties, because there aren’t any at present. I’ve 
fixed it all. You’re going to bed to-night without any cares, 
and you’re going to sleep the clock round. See?” 

“I couldn’t sleep — away from Bunny,” she said, some- 
what breathless still, notwithstanding the comforting kindli- 
ness of his eyes. 

“I reckon you’ll have to try,” he said. “And if it’s 
any comfort to you to know it. Bunny is charmed with the 
idea.” 

His words sent an odd dismay to her heart. With this 
lightening of her burden, she seemed to see Bunny slipping 
away from her, — Bunny, who filled her world. 

Jake was on the point of rising from his knees when she 
laid a detaining hand upon his arm. “Jake,” she said, 
with slight hesitation, “it — it is more than kind of you to 


143 


The Wedding Night 

think of this. But do you know I would rather — really 
rather — go on in the old way and look after Bunny myself 
at night? You can help me in the daytime if you will. 
But — but — at night, — Jake, please, let me take care of him 
at night!” 

There was entreaty in her voice. Jake remained beside 
her, his hand grasping the arm of her chair. Once more she 
was conscious of the warmth of the man as of a force that 
emanated from him. Her fingers closed almost beseech- 
ingly upon his sleeve. 

“Say,” he said slowly at last, “is it for your own sake 
— or for Bunny’s? ” 

She quivered at the question. He was looking past her 
into the fire. She had a feeling that he was deliberately com- 
pelling himself to do so. 

“I have always mothered B4l4iny,” she said rather 
piteously. “I — shouldn’t feel easy about him if — if I were 
not within reach. ” 

“Is that quite true?” said Jake. 

“ True ! ” she echoed. 

He nodded two or three times. “ Is it quite true that you 
wouldn’t feel easy — absolutely easy — about leaving the boy 
in my charge?” 

She hesitated. 

“Now, don’t mind me!” he said. “Be honest! I’m 
honest myself.” 

She hesitated still. 

He turned his head slowly and looked at her. “It’s not 
— quite — true, is it?” he said. 

Her eyes fell before his. “Very well,” she said, her 
voice very low. “ We will say it is entirely for my own sake. 
I want to be with him at night. ” 

Jake was silent a moment. Then: “That’s a pity,” he 
said, “because I’m afraid the matter is practically settled. 
Of course I’d call you if he needed you, ” he added. 


144 


The Hundredth Chance 


She drew her hand from beneath his. “You have settled 
it between you, I see, ” she said, with a small, pinched smile. 

He got up and solidly returned to his chair. “Yes, that’s 
so. I don’t say we are going to make a rule. of it. But for 
to-night anyway ” 

She interrupted him suddenly, with the vehemence of an 
abrupt resolution. “No, Jake. It must be one thing or 
the other. I can’t have this discussion over again. So 
please understand that after to-night we shall return to the 
usual arrangement, which is far the best for us all. ” 

She spoke with nervous force. She was for the moment 
painfully afraid of being mastered by this man whose 
strength was still such an unknown quantity that she braced 
herself to test it as though she were challenging a giant. 

Jake was digging in the bowl of his pipe with a penknife, 
and was for the moment* too engrossed with the matter to 
look up. At length, however, he stuck the pipe into his 
mouth and began to search his pockets for matches. He 
found one loose, and bent to strike it on the heel of his boot. | 
She watched him with a growing uneasiness. Would he j 
never speak? - 

The rasp of the match set her nerves on edge. She rose 
and stood before the fire, very slim and straight. 

Jake puffed at his pipe with immense deliberation, and 
in a moment the burning match sped past her into the 
flames. He lay back in his chair with his legs stretched out, 
his hands in his pockets, and regarded her. 

She turned to him at length, meeting the untamed glitter 
of his eyes with stern composure. “Jake!” 

“My girl!” said Jake. 

She shivered suddenly and uncontrollably. He spoke as 
if — as if he had a proprietary right over her. She read 
ownership — and the pride of ownership — in his look. 
Abruptly she turned her back upon him. Just so might 
he look upon one of his favourite horses. It was the look 


The Wedding Night 145 

of the master, admiring, arbitrary, possessive; and with all 
her soul she resented it. 

She stood a moment gripping the mantelpiece, gathering 
her strength. Then without another word she drew herself 
up and walked out of the room. 

She knew even as she closed the door that by strength 
she would never prevail against him. She might beat her 
will to atoms against his, but not by a hair’s breadth would 
she thus turn him from the course upon which he was set. 
xo 


1 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE DAY AFTER 

W HEN Maud slept that night, it was the deep, deep 
sleep of exhaustion. All the pressing cares of the 
past few months, all the strenuous efforts, the unremitting 
anxieties, had culminated in one vast burden which had at 
last overweighted her strength. Against her will the burden 
had been lifted from her, but now that it was gone she slept 
and slept. No dreams pierced that intense repose. She 
lay without stirring, as though the ancient spell had been 
renewed and laid upon her. 

The room in which she lay overlooked the whole stone- 
paved length of the stable-yard, but no voice or stamping of 
hoofs awaked her. The cheery sounds of the coming day 
did not even vaguely penetrate her rest. Body and soul 
were wrapped in complete oblivion while hour after hour 
went by. 

There had been snow in the night, and the sun arose 
upon a world of dazzling whiteness. The toy fir-trees were 
mantled in it. The stable-roofs gleamed in a thousand 
sparkles. 

She had pulled up the blind before lying down, and the 
reflection lit up the room with an ever-growing brightness. 
She opened her eyes at last quite suddenly and stared at the 
oak-beamed ceiling. 

The next instant she turned sharply on her side, aware 
of a furtive movement in the room. Someone — a man — 

146 


H7 


The Day After 

was on his knees before the grate, stealthily coaxing the fire 
to burn. She had a glimpse of brown leggings and a rough 
tweed suit. There were spurs on his heels that shone like 
silver. His red-brown head was on a level with the bars 
at which he was softly blowing. 

As she moved a flame shot up in response to his efforts 
and he turned, still kneeling, and looked at her. 

'‘Say, you’ve had a real good night for once,” he said 
in a voice of soft approval. “How do you feel yourself this 
morning?” 

Maud, crimson-faced, searched for words and found none. 
It was one of the most difficult moments she had ever had 
to endure. 

Jake glanced at the fire, pushed the poker into it, and got 
to his feet. He came to her side. 

; “Don’t be mad with me!” he pleaded humbly. “Some- 
one had to light the fire, and old Lovelace is busy. ” 

He smiled as he said it, and when Jake smiled he was 
hard to resist. Maud suddenly found the difficulties of the 
situation swept away. With Jake in a docile mood she 
found it comparatively easy to deal. 

“Thank you,” she said after a moment, and with slight 
hesitation extended a hand to him. “ It was kind of you to 
light the fire though I could have done very well without it. ” 

He took the hand very respectfully. She even had a 
faint suspicion that he also was secretly embarrassed. 
“ The room faces due north, ” he said. “ It had to be done, 
though I hoped you wouldn’t wake.” 

“Thank you,” she said again, and withdrew her hand 
from his steady, all-enveloping grasp. “How — how is 
Bunny?” 

He smiled again with more assurance. His strong white 
teeth were very good to see. “He had a splendid night. 
I’ve got him up and dressed. He is downstairs, waiting 
for you to take him out.” 


148 


The Hundredth Chance 


This piece of diplomacy obviously came to Jake as an 
inspiration. His smile broadened at the brightening of her 
face. 

Maud raised herself on her elbow and pushed the thick 
hair back from her forehead. “You are very good/* she 
said gratefully. “Please, will you go now, and let me get 
up?’* 

He turned at once to the door, but paused as he reached 
it. “Say, Maud,” he said tentatively; “there’s a break- 
fast-tray waiting for you. May I bring it up?” 

“ Oh, please don’t ! ” she said hurriedly. “ I never break- 
fast in bed. Besides ’ ’ 

“I’ll put it outside the door then,” said Jake, and was 
gone. 

She heard him clatter down the uncarpeted stairs, whist- 
ling as if well-pleased with himself, and as she reviewed his 
unceremonious behaviour she decided to treat it with the 
simplicity with which he evidently regarded it himself. 
There was that advantage in the situation at least. His 
character and his conduct were wholly without subtleties — • 
or so she imagined. When he diunped down the break- 
fast-tray in the passage a little later she called her thanks 
to him through the closed door as though he had been an old 
and intimate friend. Perhaps after all she had been over- 
fanciful the night before! 

She ate her breakfast with a growing sense of reassurancet 
dressed, and went downstairs. 

Something of an ordeal here awaited her in the form of 
an encounter with Mrs. Lovelace, who greeted her deferen- 
tially but with a reticence that certainly did not veil any 
good-will. She presented her with the household keys with 
the stiff remark that Mr. Bolton had desired her to do so. 

Maud received them with an odd dismay. Somehow she 
had not visualized herself as the mistress of the establish- 
ment. 


149 


The Day After 

‘‘Mr. Bolton also wished me to take your orders for 
dinner, ma’am,” said Mrs. Lovelace, with stiff dignity. 
“He is accustomed to dine in the middle of the day, but I 
was to tell you that if you preferred a late dinner it was all 
one to him.” 

The slight emphasis on the last word did not escape 
Maud, and she saw at once that Mrs. Lovelace could not be 
considered equally indifferent on the subject. 

“But of course we will dine in the middle of the day,” 
she said at once, and was rewarded by a faint flicker of 
amiability on the old woman’s severe countenance. 

“That is as you please, ma’am,” she said, with less for- 
mality, and Maud felt that she had scored a point. 

She escaped from the interview at length with a sensa- 
tion of relief, and hastened to Bunny whom she found 
awaiting her with some impatience. 

The boy was in excellent spirits. He had enjoyed having 
Jake in attendance, and unhesitatingly he let her know it. 

“Why, there’s no trouble at all in being lifted by him,” 
he said. “And, by the way, he says you’re not to lift me 
any more. It’s too much for you. I’m ready to go out now, 
but he will put me in the chair. He said you were to call 
him. He’s somewhere in the stables. ” 

Bunny’s fashion of expressing himself was not a diplo- 
matic one. Maud did not argue the matter, but as she went 
in search of Jake a deep resentment kindled and burned 
within her. So this was to be the first consequence of her 
rash step — the gradual removal of Bunny from her care! 
Bunny — ^her Bunny — for whose dear sake she had made 
the sacrifice 1 

Out in the stable-yard she came upon Sam Vickers suck- 
ing a straw the while he cleaned a saddle. He greeted her 
with a smile, and informed her that the boss was in one of 
the loose boxes round the comer. 

Maud followed his directions, passing down a narrow 


150 


The Hundredth Chance 


passage between stalls to an open stone-paved space beyond 
that was surrounded by loose boxes. Here she paused, 
catching the sound of voices, and uncertain whence they 
proceeded. A bony red setter came up to her and poked a 
friendly nose into her hand. 

She bent to fondle him, and as she did so she heard Jake 
speaking in a building close to her. She turned towards the , 
voice with the intention of joining him; but, so turning, she 
heard the words he uttered and stood petrified. For Jake, 
albeit with the utmost calmness and deliberation, was 
speaking a language that made her blood run cold. His 
words came with a fluency ^-md distinctness that made them 1 
all the more terrible. If he had been stuttering with rage, ; 
she felt it would have horrified her less. She stood rooted 
to the spot, white-faced and powerless, while the kindly set- ) 
ter fawned about her knees. 

She thought the soft voice would never stop. Someone 
had done wrong and was being cursed for it with appalling 
thoroughness. Such oaths as Jake uttered she had never, 
before heard or dreamed of, and the scathing cruelty of his i 
speech was like a stinging lash. 

No remonstrance or protest of any sort was offered in 
return; but after what seemed to her an intolerable length of 
time there came the sound of heavy, shuffling feet, and a 
small sandy-haired stable-lad of about seventeen came 
blundering out into the yard. His face was crimson and' 
screwed up like the face of a crying baby. He sniffed' 
emotionally as he went past her. 

Maud remained where she was. She was sick with 
disgust. Her whole being physical and mental was in 
revolt. She wanted to turn and go, but something kept her 
there. She stood like an outraged princess, clothed in a 
dignity that was wholly unconscious, while Despair, grim, 
relentless, forced a way to her quivering heart. This — this 
was her husband! This coarse-mouthed brute— this mon-l 


The Day After 151 

ster ot evil eloquence ! This was the man to whom she had 
fled for protection, to whose chivalrous instincts she had 
entrusted herself! Oh, what had she done? 

And then suddenly he came out upon her, striding forth, 
his riding-whip clenched in his hand, his brows drawn in a 
ruddy, threatening line. 

He saw her and in a moment, magically, his face changed. 
The cruel, lynx-like vindictiveness went out of it. He 
came to her smiling. 

“Hullo, Maud!” he said. 

And Maud shrank, shrank visibly, so that he could not 
fail to see ; then drew herself tog her, instinctively summon- 
ing her pride. 

“I came to look for you,” she told him, with icy aloof- 
ness. “Bunny is waiting to be moved. ” 

“Right 0!” said Jake. 

He moved towards the passage by which she had entered 
the yard, and she walked beside him, very pale, very erect, 
yet tingling with a disgust that almost amounted to loath- 
ing. 

They went a few yards in silence, then silence became 
a burden. She spoke. 

“It is really quite unnecessary to trouble you. I am 
fully capable of moving him myself. ” 

He turned his head towards her. “Say, Princess, what’s 
wrong ?” he said. 

She quivered afresh at his tone; it had the possessive 
quality that she so dreaded — was beginning to abhor. 

She did not answer, and he passed on with scarcely a 
pause. “I know you can lift the boy; but it’s very bad 
for you, and not over good for him. Where’s the point 
of it anyway when you’ve got me at hand to do it for 
you?” 

“It is quite unnecessary to trouble you,” she said again, 
“unnecessary and absurd.” 


152 


The Hundredth Chance 


“All right, my girl,” he said unexpectedly. “Call it 
just one of my whims and — htimour it!” 

She felt herself flush. His tone — ^though perfectly good- 
tempered — had been almost one of command. As they 
emerged from the stone passage into the outer yard she 
gave abrupt rein to her indignation. 

“I really cannot submit to any interference in my care 
of Bunny. I told you so last night, and I meant it. He 
has always been my especial charge, and I cannot give him 
up.’’ 

Jake’s eyes were upon her, vigilant, intent, dominant. 
He spoke in a drawl that sounded to her slightly derisive. 
“Say, now, what will you do if Bunny is cured?” 

She turned her face sharply from him. What would she 
do indeed? But the thing was an impossibility. She put 
the thought away from her. 

“I am not discussing that,” she said, speaking with 
a grim effort at calmness that cost her all her strength. 
“ It is the present with which I am dealing now. I believe 
you mean to be kind, but ” 

“You don’t say!” interjected Jake softly. 

“But,” she said again, with emphasis, “it is a mistaken 
kindness. I am very grateful to you for yotu* help, but 
really you must let me do my share.” 

An involuntary note of wistfulness in the last words 
softened the look in Jake’s eyes. He even smiled a little as 
he said: “Bunny being the only person in the world for 
whom you entertain the smallest spark of affection?” 

She looked at him quickly. “He is all that I have,” 
she said, in a low tone of protest. 

“ That so? ” said Jake deliberately. “Well, — I’m sorry. ” 

She felt the flush deepen to crimson in her face, and she 
quickened her steps as they neared the house, longing to put 
an end to an encounter that had brought her nothing but 
discomfiture. 


153 


The Day After 

Jake lengthened his stride. He looked no longer at her, 
but straight ahead with the eyes of a man who reads the 
future. Evidently the prospect was a pleasing one, for the 
faint smile still lingered about his lips. She was thankful 
that he had not observed that painful blush of hers. 

At the door of his house he paused and stood back for 
her to precede him; and so standing, suddenly and softly 
he gave utterance to the thought in his mind. 

“Say, Maud,” he said into her ear, “some day — when 
the boy is well and off your hands — I’d just enjoy to see 
you with a child of your own in your arms. ” 

She started away from the whispered words, started and 
quivered like a wild thing trapped. For a single instant 
her eyes met his in open, passionate revolt ; then swiftly she 
passed him by. 

Jake followed with his lips pursed to a whistle, and a 
certain hard glitter replacing the dream in his eyes. 


ow 

-d! 


CHAPTER XX 


A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY 

S OMEONE was whistling in the stable-yard with elabor- 
ate turns and trills to the accompaniment of a 
horse’s hoofs that danced upon the stones. 

It was Christmas Day, and from the church half-way 
down the hill there came the gay peal of bells. The stable- 
doors were all closed, and the yard was in perfect order. 
There was no one about besides the solitary whistler on 
horseback; and he, it seemed, had no intention of pro- 
longing his solitude, for he was heading his horse straight 
for the spotless white gate that led to Jake Bolton’s 
dwelling. 

He was a young man, with a swarthy face of undeniable 
ugliness that yet possessed a monkeyish fascination that was 
all its own. His eyes laughed out of it with a merry wicked- 
ness — odd eyes, one black, one grey, that gave a most 
fantastic expression to his whole countenance. They were 
not trustworthy eyes, but they were full of humour. He 
had a comedian’s trick of working the brows above them so 
that his features were scarcely ever in repose. 

He sat in the saddle as one completely at home there; j 
but there was no grace about him. His limbs seemed to be I 
fastened on with wires, like the limbs of a marionette. 
Reaching the closed white gate, he stooped from the 
at>addle, and with the end of his riding-switch lifted the 
f catch. On the little finger of the hand he thus extended 


A Friend of the Family 155 

he wore a slender gold ring in which was set a single sap- 
phire surrounded by diamonds. 

He walked his horse up the footpath to the door, and 
on this he beat a rousing tattoo, still without dismounting. 

During the pause that ensued he whistled a few more 
elaborate bars of his melody, and then, coming to a break, 
bent and knocked again. 

The door opened in haste as if agitated by the second 
summons, and Mrs. Lovelace, red-faced from her kitchen 
fire, appeared curtseying in the entrance. 

“ So sorry to keep you waiting, my lord! The girl’s gone 
to church. And will your lordship be pleased to walk in? 
We’d only heard this morning of your lordship’s return, and 
we’d not hardly expected to see your lordship up so soon. ” 
merry Christmas to you, Lovelace!” said his lord- 
ship, with that most engaging grin of his ; he leaned towards 
her confidentially. “Take this for love of me, in honour of 
the occasion!” 

He slipped a coin into Mrs. Lovelace’s hand that caused 
her to curtsey again ecstatically and wish him every blessing 
she could call to mind on the spur of the moment. But 
he laughed easily and cut her short. 

“Hear, hear! But I can’t stop to listen. Where’s Jake 
Bolton? Is he in?” 

“Well, no, my lord. I’m sorry to say Mr. Bolton’s gone 
to church. ” 

“Sorry! Oh, come. Mother Lovelace, spare my morals! 
I always thought going to church was an innocent amuse- 
ment. Don’t disabuse me of my childish fancies! But 
what’s the good of my walking in if the boss is out and you 
are cooking the turkey? Unless you’re wanting someone to 
come and turn the spit!” 

Mrs. Lovelace raised hands of horrified protest. “How 
your lordship do carry on, to be sure! No, no, my lord! 
I was only thinking that you’d maybe fancy a glass of my 


The Hundredth Chance 


156 

cherry brandy with the wind in the east as it is. I’m sure 
as Mr. Bolton would be wishful for me to make the sug- 
gestion.” 

“I should prefer the cherry brandy by itself,” said 
Lord Saltash, with a mischievous chuckle. “But I won’t 
stay now, thanks all the same. I suppose he’ll be back 
some time? I’ve never known Jake go to church before. 
Is he courting or what?” 

Mrs. Lovelace opened her small round eyes to their widest 
extent. “Why, can it be as your lordship hasn’t heard?” 

“Heard! Heard what? Tell me quickly!” urged his 
lordship. “This suspense is too horrible!” 

“About Mr. Bolton’s marriage, sir,” explained Mrs. 
Lovelace, looking suddenly prim. 

“What!” ejaculated her listener. “You don’t say 
Bolton’s been caught?” 

“The marriage took place last Sunday, my lord,” said 
Mrs. Lovelace, still looking prim but plainly enjoying her 
rdle of informant. 

Lord Saltash slapped his thigh with a yell of laughter. 
“Poor old Jake! And who is the bride?” 

“Mrs. Bolton, my lord, is the step-daughter of Mr. 
Sheppard of the Anchor Hotel,” said Mrs. Lovelace. 

“Is she though? What’s she like? Pretty?” 

Mrs. Lovelace pursed her lips. “She is a lady, my lord, 
— own daughter to a baronet.” 

. “ Oh, I say ! ” protested Lord Saltash. “ Y ou’re cramming 
me!” 

Mrs. Lovelace looked shocked but at the same time 
flattered by the accusation. “Indeed, my lord, it’s the 
truth!” she protested. “And her brother Sir Bernard 
Brian is in the house at the present moment. He, poor 
young gentleman, has the misfortune to be afflicted with a 
humpback. ” 

“What? What? What? My good woman, do you know 


157 


A Friend of the Family 

what you’re talking about?” Saltash’s mobile brows 
came suddenly low over his eyes in a heavy scowl that added 
years to his appearance. He leaned nearer to her. * ‘ What ? ’ ’ 
he said again. 

Mrs. Lovelace paused, debating which of her statements 
he desired her to repeat. But ere she could make up her 
mind, Lord Saltash dropped with a thud to the ground. He 
threw his horse’s bridle over the gate-post, and turned to 
enter. 

“Just ring up one of the stable-lads, and tell him. to walk 
Moscow up and down till I come!” he ordered, his voice 
no longer bland, but curt and imperious. “I should like to 
see this brother-in-law of Bolton’s, so show me in!” 

Mrs. Lovelace turned before him and scurried down the 
passage like a startled hen. 

Lord Saltash strode after — a figure of medium height, 
sudden of movement, unimposing of carriage, yet withal 
possessing that nameless something that denotes high 
breeding. It was said that there was a strain of royal blood 
in the Burchester family, and this member of it had long 
been dubbed “the merry monarch” by his intimates. 
There was about him an inherent arrogance that no one 
dreamed of resenting, so essentially was it a part of himself. 

He entered Jake’s sunny parlour with absolute assur- 
ance, though the frown still drew his forehead. 

“Lord Saltash!” announced Mrs. Lovelace. 

And “Hullo, Bunny!” came from Lord Saltash in the 
same moment as he strode forward to Bunny’s sofa with the 
confidence of one entering the presence of an old friend. 

Bunny’s quick cry of “Charlie!” fully justified this at- 
titude, and Mrs. Lovelace withdrew with a very greatly 
enhanced opinion of the importance of the Brian family. 

“He might have been greeting his own brother,” she said 
to herself, as she trotted back to her kitchen. 

There was certainly no cordiality lacking in Bunny’s 


158 


The Hundredth Chance 


reception of the visitor. He clung to Lord Saltash’s hand 
with shining eyes upraised. 

“I say, what a bounder you are to have stayed away all 
this time! I thought you’d have come back long ago. 
Maud’s married. I suppose you know?” 

‘ ‘ Married to J ake Bolton ? ’ ’ There was a peculiar intona- 
tion in the question. Lord Saltash was smiling as he 
uttered it, smiling with drawn brows. 

“Yes; and he’s the best of good fellows. But I wanted 
her to wait for you all the same,” said Bunny, with the 
candour of the confidant. “It was no good talking though. 
She couldn’t wait.” 

“How long has she been married?” Lord Saltash’s tone 
was settling into studied indifference. 

“Only a few days,” Bunny told him. “Only since 
Sunday. ” 

“Was it so urgent as that then? She isn’t generally in 
such a desperate hurry.” 

Bunny looked uncomfortable. “You see, it was that 
brute of a Sheppard at ‘The Anchor.’ The mater married 
him, you know. Thought she was going to do a good thing 
for us all. I think it has turned out all right so far as she is 
concerned. But he was a perfect beast to Maud and me. ” 

Lord Saltash nodded comprehension. “ I never did think 
your mother was over-endowed with wisdom,” he com- 
mented. “And how did you come to know Bolton? Is he 
a friend of Sheppard’s?” 

“They’re in the same lot, though I don’t think Jake 
likes him. Jake’s a good sort, isn’t he ? ” said Bunny almost 
pleadingly. “He’s been jolly decent to us.” 

Lord Saltash was gazing before him through eyelids 
that were slightly contracted. “ I believe he is quite a good 
sort,” he said after a moment without enthusiasm. “And 
Maud? Is she in love with him?” 

“Good gracious, no!” said Bunny. 


A Friend of the Family 159 

Lord Saltash turned towards him sharply. “You're very 
emphatic. Why ? ’ ’ 

“Well, she isn’t,” Bunny asserted. “Jake knows she 
isn t. 

“Oh! And what may Jake’s sentiments be?” 

“He’s gone on her of course,” said Bunny. “But he 
isn’t nearly so pally with her as he is with me. Why, he 
even smacks my head sometimes ! ” He spoke with genuine 
pride. 

Lord Saltash laughed. “Oh, Jake’s a great disciplin- 
arian,” he said, “or he wouldn’t be where he is. But look 
here, does he know that I am — so to speak — a friend of the 
family?” 

“Yes, I told him,” said Bunny. 

“What did you tell him?” 

“Told him that you and Maud were chums, and that if 
she married anyone she ought to marry you.” Bunny’s 
tone was blunt, his face somewhat red. 

Lord Saltash laughed again. The drawn look had wholly 
gone from his eyes. He worked his brows up and down 
with astonishing agility. “That pleased him. I’ll bet,” he 
remarked flippantly. “And so he decided to get married 
the next day, did he, and damn the consequences?” 

“Oh no, it didn’t come off then. We had a big row with 
the Sheppard beast first ; and it was after that Maud went 
off and fixed it up with Jake on her own. It was a pity you 
weren’t there, Charlie. She’d have married almost anyone 
to get away.” 

“Any scoundrel?” laughed Lord Saltash. “Well, old 
chap, do you know, between me and you, I’m not sure that 
she hasn’t done better for herself than if she had waited for 
me to come along? Marriage has such a nasty way of 
taking the gilt off the gingerbread, and I must admit I 
always liked the gilt the best. Now, Jake, — good soul — 
prefers the stuff itself; in fact, I’m not sure that he isn’t 


i6o 


The Hundredth Chance 


a bit of a beast in some ways. He looks it. But possibly 
Maud likes beasts.” 

“Indeed she doesn’t!” said Bunny, with quick warmth. 
“And as for Jake — he’s a brick. I see a good deal of him, 
for he’s taken me on at night now; so I ought to know. ” 

Lord Saltash got up and strolled to the window. “Yes, 
he must be rather a brick,” he said, after a moment. 
“Doesn’t Maud think so?” 

“No, Maud’s furious because Jake won’t let her lift me 
any more. I expect she is jealous, ” said Bunny, with some 
complacence. “And she doesn’t like being bossed.” 

“You don’t object apparently?” Lord Saltash sounded 
indifferent, even slightly bored. 

“Oh, I’d sooner be bossed by a man than a woman any 
day,” said Bunny. “Besides, Jake’s a sport. I like 
him.’' 

“ He’s a gentleman, ” said Saltash une3?;pectedly. 

“Not exactly,” protested Bunny. “He doesn’t profess 
to be that.” 

“My dear chap, a gentleman is born not made. Jake’s 
sound. It’s more than most of us can say. I wouldn’t 
part with him for a thousand pounds. ” 

Lord Saltash turned from the window with a pleasant 
smile on his ugly face, and broke into a careless whistle. 

Bunny watched him fidgeting to and fro with a slightly 
puzzled frown. He had expected something more dramatic 
than this easy acquiescence to the ruling of Fate. He was 
sure in his own mind that the Lord Saltash of to-day loved 
his sister as much as had the Charlie Burchester of other 
days, and he could not understand the serenity of his 
attitude. 

“I suppose you’ll wait and see Maud, ” he said presently. 

“ I suppose I shall, ” said Saltash, with a bafiQing grimace. 
“Are you going to eat your Christmas dinner without 
visitors?” 


i6i 


A Friend of the Family 

“Yes. The mater was coming, but that Sheppard 
bounder turned awkward at the last minute, and as we none 
of us wanted to go there, it fell through. They’ve got some 
show on at ‘ The Anchor.’ We’re well out of that. ” 

“And you consider this a change for the better?” ques- 
tioned Lord Saltash. 

“Rather! I wouldn’t go back for fifty pounds. Neither 
would Maud. It’s much nicer up here than down by the 
sea, too, ” said Bunny, with enthusiasm. 

“I suppose you haven’t been to the Castle,” said Lord 
Saltash, coming back to the fire to stand before it. 

“No. Jake said something about taking us some day. 
But it’s not much good my going. I’m such a log. ” The 
old bitterness suddenly sounded in Bunny’s voice. 

Lord Saltash lightly poked him with the end of his 
riding-switch. “I’ll take you round myself some day, you 
and Maud. I’m off for a ride now when I’ve had a look 
round the stables. I shall be back in an hour or so, in time 
to see the virtuous Jake when he comes back from church. ” 

He turned to the door therewith, and fell to whistling 
softly the tune to which he had entered the stable-yard a 
short time before. Opening it he glanced back to wave a 
careless adieu, then passed whistling out. 

“Well, I’m jiggered!” said Bunny. “Anyone wotild 
think he didn’t care a jot!” 

Which was precisely the impression that Lord Saltash 
had intended to convey. 


IX 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE OLD LIFE 


HAT Christmas morning was like a dream to Maud. 



1 To find herself in church with Jake by her side was a 
circumstance that she had been very far from expecting, and 
the experience was so unique that it seemed scarcely real. 

It was by his suggestion that they were there, and he 
had overruled her hesitation as to leaving Bunny with a 
masterly skill that had enlisted Bunny himself on his side. 

So they had gone, like a sober married couple, as Maud 
said to herself, though the thought of Jake as her husband 
was somehow one that she invariably failed utterly to grasp. 
She herself found it impossible to give her undivided atten- 
tion to the service with the perpetual consciousness of his 
presence at her side. She could not tear her mind from him. 
He came between her and her devotions. 

And yet he himself seemed to be wholly absorbed. Not 
once did those watchful eyes stray in her direction. He 
followed the entire service with reverence and a steady 
concentration that she envied but could not emulate. 

When it was over and they were walking back, he drew a 
deep breath and remarked: “ That’s the first time I’ve been 
in church, except for our wedding, for twenty years. ” 

Maud looked at him in amazement. “ So long as that ? ” 
He nodded. “I used to go regularly till my mother died. 
After that, I went to sea and got out of the way of it. ” 
There fell a silence upon his words. The colour that 


The Old Life 163 

was always so quick to rise in Maud’s cheeks spread upwards 
to her forehead. 

It was with an evident effort that she said finally : “You 
haven’t told me anything about your mother yet, Jake.** 

He turned his head slowly towards her. “It didn’t 
strike me that you would care to hear,” he said, with, 
simplicity. 

She conquered her embarrassment with difficulty, but her 
voice was curiously devoid of enthusiasm as she said: “ I am 
interested — of course. ” 

‘ ‘ Really ? ” said Jake. “ I don’t know why you should be. 
She was a very fine woman, and she killed herself with hard 
work when my father failed as a farmer. That’s about all 
her story.” 

“ Oh, Jake, how dreadfully sad ! ” There was quick sym- 
pathy in Maud’s tone. She put out a shy hand to him as 
they walked. 

He took it, held it fast for a moment, and let it go. “A 
woman will always attempt the impossible,” he said, “for 
the sake of anyone she cares for. You would do the same 
for Bunny. I saw that the first day I met you. I’ve seen 
it a hundred times in different parts of the world, and I guess 
it’s one of the greatest things in life.” 

Maud uttered a sharp sigh. “I don’t see anything great 
in doing what one must, ” she said rather sadly. “ It is very 
nice of you to admire women, but I expect it is chiefly be- 
cause you don’t understand them.” 

Jake’s frank smile appeared at her words. “I’m not 
disputing that most women need a burden of some sort, ” he 
said gently. “I guess that’s just a woman’s way. She 
wouldn’t be happy if she hadn’t one. ” 

“And yet you want to take mine away!” The words 
were out almost before she knew it. She repented them 
even as they fell. 

Jake’s smile passed, and an odd, dogged look took its, 


164 


The Hundredth Chance 


place. “I reckon that’s different,” he said. “You’ve 
carried too heavy a burden all your life. Do you know, 
Maud” — his voice softened though his face remained 
unchanged — “that first time I saw you, I recognized that 
look of desperate endurance in your eyes that my mother 
used to have? It cut right through me. And you were so 
young, which made it worse. ” 

“I don’t feel young,” she interposed. 

“I know,” he made answer. “You’ve missed it all. 
But when you’re stronger — happier — you’ll find you’re not 
so old. There are quite a lot of good things in the world 
even for middle-aged folk like you and me.” 

She uttered a little dubious laugh. 

“Yes, that’s so,” he asserted, in that calm, confident 
drawl of his. “And that brings me round to what I’ve been 
wanting to say to you. I don’t want to deprive you of 
anything worth having, but I am wanting — real badly — 
to make a sound man of Bunny as soon as may be. Reckon 
you’re wanting that too?” 

Her heart gave a thick, hard throb. “Of course,” she 
said rather breathlessly. 

“Yes, of course,” agreed Jake imperturbably. “Well, I 
had a letter last night from Capper, one of the biggest sur- 
geons in the world. I had the good luck to do him a small 
service, once, and he can’t somehow forget it. Now he’s 
coming to England in a few weeks, and he’ll look me up. 
I’ve told him about Bunny, and he’s sort of interested. Say, 
Maud, it would be a mighty big thing to let him examine the 
little chap and see what he thinks.” 

Maud’s face was very pale. She walked in silence 

Jake glanced at her. “You’d be afraid?” he suggested. 

“I don’t know,” she said, in that same breathless tone. 
“It — it seems rather soon. And suppose — suppose he 
failed!” 

“My dear,” Jake said gently. “Capper won’t fail. 


The Old Life 


165 

He’ll either tackle the job and carry it through, or he won’t 
attempt it. That’s the sort of man he is. ” 

Maud dropped back into silence. The road at this point 
was somewhat steep, and she was gasping for breath. 

Suddenly Jake reached out, took her hand, and pulled it 
through his arm. “All right, my girl, all right!” he said 
kindly. “We won’t hustle any. I shan’t say another word 
to Bunny on the subject till you have made up your mind 
what you’d like done. Now you lean on me! I’ll pull you 
up.” 

She did not want to lean on him, but for some reason she 
could not at once withdraw her hand. They mounted the 
hill side by side. 

Jake said no more upon the subject. He evidently re- 
garded it as closed. As they turned in at length at the white 
gates, he said: “I was wondering if your mother could be 
persuaded to come up to tea if I went and fetched her with 
the dog-cart. We couldn’t squeeze Sheppard into that if we 
tried.” 

She knew that he made the suggestion solely for her plea- 
sure, and a sudden warmth kindled within her. 

“You are good to me, Jake!” she said gratefully. 

“Oh, rats!” said Jake. “Being good to you is all one 
with being good to myself. I’ll go then as soon as dinner is 
over. Now who in thunder — ” He stopped abruptly 
gazing straight ahead. 

A momentary frown drew his level brows and passed. 
“Hullo!” he said, in a soft drawl. 

Maud was looking ahead too. She saw a man’s figure 
moving towards them over the stones of the yard ; she heard 
the ring of spurs. And suddenly she stood still, white to the 
lips, panting, unnerved. 

It could have been only for a second, that pause of 
hers; for at once she was aware of Jake’s hand pushed lightly 
through her arm, leading her forward. 


The Hundredth Chance 


1 66 

“I guess I don’t need to introduce Lord Saltash, ” he 
said. “You’ve met before. ” 

Yes, they had met before, met and parted, and the 
memory of it stabbed her to the heart. She moved forward, 
as it were mechanically, under Jake’s guidance. She had 
known that this ordeal would have to be faced, but it had 
taken her unawares. She was unprepared. 

But the moment she heard his voice, his laugh, her 
agitation was gone. There was a subtle camaraderie in 
Lord Saltash’s greeting that smoothed the way. She 
remembered with a pang that it had ever been his custom 
to take the easiest course. 

With his hand holding hers, and his ugly face laughing 
its debonair welcome into her own, she could not feel tragic 
or even disconcerted any longer, even though with his other 
hand he clapped Jake on the shoulder. 

“So you’ve gone and got married, have you?” he said, 
his eyebrows working with monkeyish rapidity. “How 
original of you ! I won’t be banal enough to congratulate. 
It’s such a bore to have to reply to that sort of thing. Let 
me wish you a happy Christmas instead! Ma belle reine des 
roses, je te salue I You are more faultily faultless than 
ever!” 

He made her a sweeping, cavalier’s bow, and lightly 
kissed her hand. 

She laughed without effort. “ How odd to meet you like 
this, Charlie! I thought you were still abroad.” 

She was not even aware of uttering his Christian name, so 
naturally did it rise to her lips. It seemed to her suddenly 
that the old cruel barrier had been removed. Since they 
could never again be lovers, they were free now to be friends. 

Surely the same thought had struck him also, for his •: 
odd eyes smiled intimately, confidentially, into hers, ere he . 
turned in his lightning fashion to Jake, standing solidly by J 
her side. 


The Old Life 


167 


‘‘You knew we were old friends?” he questioned. 

Jake’s eyes, red-brown, intent, watched the swarthy, 
mobile face without the smallest shade of expression. “Yes,” 
he said, in his slow soft voice, “I knew.” 

Maud glanced at him quickly. How much did he know? 
Had Bunny ever confided in him upon the subject? 

But his face, absolutely composed and normal, told her 
nothing. He accepted the hand that Lord Saltash extended, 
looking him full and straight in the face. And through her 
mind unbidden there ran the memory of that strange story 
of treachery that Jake had once told to her and Bunny. 
Looking at the dark, keen countenance of this man who 
had once been so much more to her than friend, she tried to 
visualize his double, and failed utterly. Surely there could 
be but one Charlie Burchester in all the world! 

“What are you trying to see?” laughed Lord Saltash. 
“I carry neither my virtues nor my vices in my face, being 
long past the ingenuous age. Have we time to go round 
the Stables? Or is your Christmas turkey clamouring to be 
eaten?” 

Maud shot a swift look at Jake who after a momentary 
pause said, “I can go round with you now if you wish, my 
lord.” 

Saltash made a quick grimace. “That’s very obliging 
of you, Bolton. But don’t let me interfere with your do- 
mestic arrangements! I can come over again later. ” 

It was then that Maud very quietly intervened. “If 
you care to join us at dinner I am sure we shall be very 
pleased, and you can go and see the stud afterwards.” 

“What! Really?” said Lord Saltash. “Of course I 
shall be delighted. There are to-morrow’s events at Gray- 
down, Bolton, I want you to post me up with the latest. 
Sure I shan’t be in the way ? ” 

He put the question directly to Jake, who replied without 
haste or hesitation : “ I reckon no guest of ours could be that. ” 


The Hundredth Chance 


168 

There was nothing in his manner to indicate if he were 
pleased or otherwise by the arrangement. He seemed to be 
in a mood of extreme reticence, and Maud wondered as they 
walked to the house if she had vexed him by taking upon 
herself to extend hospitality to his patron. 

But then it had been the only course open to her. Surely 
he must see that! She and Charlie were such old friends; 
they could not begin to be strangers now. 

Yet the doubt worried her. Jake was plainly not upon 
very intimate terms with Lord Saltash. Or was it her 
presence that caused constraint? She wished she knew, but 
she had no means of ascertaining. She could only do her 
best, ably seconded by Saltash, to smooth over any slight 
difficulties that might arise from a situation that was cer- 
tainly none too easy. 

Despite her efforts she could not fail to note that Jake 
was more self-contained, more unresponsive, than she had 
ever before seen him, and for a time she felt her own manner 
to be strained and unnatural in consequence. 

• Lord Saltash plainly noticed nothing. Throughout that 
Christmas dinner he was just as gay, as debonair, as auda- 
cious, as he had been in the old days, complimented her 
with his usual effrontery, provoked her to laughter with all 
his old quick wit. She found it impossible not to respond, 
impossible not to expand in the warmth of his good com- 
radeship. She seemed to be drawn into a magic circle of 
gaiety that could not last, that was all the more precious 
because it could not last. Bunny also was well within : 
that charmed region. He was full of animation, eager, ex- 
cited, even merry. She had an uneasy fear that he would 
pay for his high spirits later, but for the time she had not : 
the heart to check him. She understood his feelings so | 
thoroughly. It was so good to have Charlie with them i 
again and to bury all the troubles of the past, so good to see , 
the flower of friendship spring from the dead root of passion, ! 


The Old Life 


169 


so good to be on easy terms again with this man whom in 
spite of everything, she could not but regard as a kindred 
spirit. 

They had always been sympathetic. They looked upon 
much in life with the same eyes. They had the same tastes, 
the same intuitions, often the same impulses. Yes, he had 
shown himself unworthy. There was a fatal flaw in his 
character. He was wild, lawless, immoral; but he was her 
friend. Somehow she could not feel that anything could 
ever alter that. They had been too near, too intimate. He 
had become like one of the family. She could not regard 
him in any other light. He had wounded her to the heart, 
but yet, with a woman^s odd faithfulness, she forgave him, 
pitied him, understood him. Only upon that one point 
she. had stood firm. Her innate purity had arisen as an 
angel with a flaming sword, dividing them. She had not 
been able to overlook his sins and marry him. She had 
known him too well — too well. Possibly even she had loved 
him too well also. 

But all that was over now. The pain was stifled, the 
sacrifice was past. She could suffer herself to accept his 
easy friendship with no dread for the future. She could 
let herself be at ease with him once more, knowing herself 
to be beyond his reach. Once very sorely she had been 
tempted to yield to him, but that temptation could never 
occur again. Her marriage was a safe anchor from which 
she could never break free and drift out to sea. She could 
afford now to be kind, since henceforth no more than kind- 
ness could ever be expected from her. And it was so good 
to be with him again. With all his waywardness and insta- 
bility ^Charlie Burchester was the most satisfying friend 
she had. He never wearied her. He always caught and 
charmed her mood. He was so rarely sensitive, so delicately 
alive, to every change of feeling. There was even something 
almost uncanny sometimes in the way he read her woman s 


170 


The Hundredth Chance 


heart, a feat for which he himself accounted by declaring 
that they had been born under the same star. 

It all came back to her as they sat at the same board 
on that Christmas Day. It was just as if there had never 
been any rift in their friendship. The memory of the man’s 
passionate pleading and her own anguished refusal had faded 
into an evil dream. They were back once more in the old 
happy days of comradeship before he had ever spoken to 
her of love. 

Only Jake’s presence held her to the present, and when at 
the end of dinner he rose to carry out his suggestion with 
regard to fetching her mother in the dog-cart she felt, as 
soon as the door closed upon him, that the old life she knew 
and loved had wholly returned. She and Bunny and 
Saltash were just children together, and they settled down 
to enjoy themselves as such. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE FAITHFUL WIDOWER 

L ord SALTASH’S desire to see the stud evaporated 
completely during the afternoon. He stayed and 
made himself extremely charming to Mrs. Sheppard, who 
returned with Jake, very fluttered and arch, to spend an 
hour — only an hour or Giles would be so cross — ^in her 
daughter’s new home. And when she left again under Jake’s 
escort it was already growing dark. 

“I’ve got to talk business with Jake so I may as well 
wait till he comes back,” said Lord Saltash comfortably, 
and they gathered round the blazing fire and sat in luxurious 
enjoyment. 

Undoubtedly Bunny had enjoyed himself that afternoon, 
but he had begun to grow restless and irritable, signs which 
Maud had learned to recognize as the heralds of a wakeful 
night. She wondered with some uneasiness if Jake would 
be able to manage him with his usual success. 

“You haven’t got a piano here, have you?” asked Saltash 
in a pause. 

She told him, “No.” 

In the old days they had sung duets together. She 
wondered if he remembered. 

He went lightly on. “You will have to use the one at the 
Castle. You mustn’t let your talents run to seed. Come 
up any day, you and Bunny. The place will always be 
open to you, whether I am there or not. ” 

171 


172 


The Hundredth Chance 


She thanked him for the thought. “We should love to 
come ; I have had no opportunities for playing for months, 
not since we left London. " 

“No?” he said. “I say, what made your mother come 
to Fairharbour? It’s a hole of a place to live in.” 

She felt her face burn in the firelight. She hesitated, 
and at once Bunny cut in. 

“ The mother always has an eye on the main chance, ” he 
said. “And she is a great believer in friendship. When 
things look black she always likes to hunt up old friends and 
give them their opportunity. ” 

His meaning was not obscure. Maud made a quick move- 
ment of protest; but Lord Saltash’s inconsequent laugh 
covered her discomfiture on the instant. , 

“Poor Lady Brian! I am afraid her luck and mine are 
made of the same rotten material. It tears at a touch. 
But I should have thought she might have chosen a sounder 
man than Sheppard of ‘The Anchor’ for a husband. ” 

“Isn’t he sound?” asked Maud quickly. 

Lord Saltash laughed again. “I could sell him up — 
lock, stock, and barrel — to-morrow if I wanted. ” 

She started. ‘ ‘ Charlie 1 Y ou don’t mean that 1 ’ ’ 

He looked at her with a gleam of mischief in his queer 
eyes. “Of course I do! ‘The Anchor’ belongs to me, and 
all that is in it. It’s mortgaged for considerably more than 
its value, and I hold the mortgage. Did he never mention 
that detail?” 

Maud sat speechless. 

Pie stretched out a lazy hand. “It’s all right, Queen 
Maud. He is quite safe so long as he behaves decently to 
you and yours. He’s something of a brute-beast, I believe? 
Well, if he needs any salutary correction, you must let me 
know.” 

His ugly face laughed into hers; the light in his eyes 
was half-mocking, half-tender. 


The Faithful Widower 


173 


“It’s good to know that there may be something left that 
I can yet do for you,” he said. “The worthy Jake may 
have a stout right arm, but he is not a Croesus. ” 

He turned the conversation in his easy, well-bred fashion, 
and her embarrassment died down. But the carelessly 
uttered information dwelt persistently in her mind, even 
though she found herself talking of indifferent things. It 
was strange that all her affairs should be so completely — and 
it seemed so irrevocably — under the direct control of this 
man whom she had once so resolutely driven out of her life. 
Fate or chance had thrown them together again. A little 
secret tremor went through her. What would come of it? 

She had not attempted to touch the hand he had stretched 
forth to her. It had fastened upon the arm of the chair in 
whichsshe sat and rested there. Presently she looked down 
at it, hei^es attracted by the gleam of the ring upon it. 

“Your own, ” murmured Saltash. “Violets blue as your 
eyes!” 

He moved his hand in the firelight, and the sapphire 
shone in the midst of the diamonds like a deep blue flame in 
the heart of a leaping fire. He drew a little nearer to her. 

“You sent it back to me,” he said. “I have worn it — 
like a faithful widower — ever since.” 

Her heart contracted with an odd little pain. “Don’t 
wax sentimental, Charlie!” she pleaded, with a difficult 
smile. 

“Would you prefer me heartless?” he said; but he with- 
drew his hand, and the sapphire burned no more. 

They began to talk again upon ordinary topics, and the 
conversation turned upon the Gray down Steeplechase 
Races of the morrow. Two horses from the Burchester 
Stud were running. 

“Beauties they are too!” said Bunny, with enthusiasm. 
“Sam Vickers swears they’ll win.” He uttered his quick, 
impatient sigh. “What wouldn’t I give to see ’em do it! 


174 The Hundredth Chance 

*^Why shouldn’t you?” said Saltash. “Fll take you 
over.” 

“Will you?” cried Bunny, with shining eyes. 

And in the same breath. “No, no!” said Maud quickly. 
“Charlie! Why do you suggest these impossible things?” 

Saltash laughed. “I never suggest the impossible,” he 
said. “Bunny — and you too — can come along in the car if 
you will. I can make him quite comfortable with cushions. ” 

But Maud shook her head. “It isn’t so easy as it used 
to be. And he gets tired so soon. Really — really, it can’t 
be done!” 

“Oh, Maud, do shut up!” broke in Bunny. “You jaw 
like any old woman! Of course I’ll come, Charlie! When 
will you be round?” 

Lord Saltash looked at Maud with an impish expression. 
“ I am afraid you are in the minority, ma reine. But leave it 
to me! I’ll undertake that no harm is done.” 

Maud rose suddenly from her chair. She stood upright 
and slender in the firelight. “I can’t consent to it,” she 
said with resolution. 

He sprang instantly to his feet. “You don’t want to 
come?” he said. 

She met his challenging eyes with an effort. “Don’t 
make things difficult, ” she begged in a low voice. 

“But if I got your mother to come too!” he urged. 
“She used to love race-meetings.” 

She turned her eyes away. “Neither Bunny nor I can 
go,” she said steadily. 

“I say I will go!” cried Bunny hotly. “I’m old enough 
to do as I like, and I won’t be dictated to by anyone. ” 

Saltash turned back to him. “I’ll take you one day, 
old chap. But the queen’s word is law, you know. We 
can’t go in direct opposition to it. Moreover, ” with au- 
dacious simplicity, “it wouldn’t be great sport for any- 
one if the queen herself did not deign to accompany us. ” 


The Faithful Widower 


175 

“ She’ll go fast enough if I do, ” said Bunny. “ She sticks 
to me like a leech. ” 

“Lucky beggar!” said Saltash. 

He glanced back at Maud. She was still on her feet, 
turned partially from him. It was evident that she did not 
mean to renew the friendly intercourse that his unwelcome 
suggestion had interrupted. 

“ I must get back to my lonely castle,” said Saltash. 

She turned then, as he had known she would. “No, 
don’t go — why should you? — till — till Jake comes back!” 

He laughed into her eyes. “Now, don’t try to persuade 
me that you want me any longer ! I know the signs too well. 
I am going to walk down and meet Jake, as I must have a 
word with him about the animals. By the way, why don’t 
you call him Jacob? The other is too frivolous for your 
august lips. ” 

There was a sting in the smiling question of which she 
alone was aware. She knew that he had it in him to be 
malicious at times. But she would not seem to notice. 

“Are you backing either of the horses running to- 
morrow?” she asked. 

He raised his agile brows. “But, of course I am. Who 
ever went to a meeting without putting something on? 
And you don’t suppose I would lay a wager against one of 
my own beasts, do you?” 

“You always back your own before anyone else’s?” she 
said. 

“Of course, ” he made prompt reply. “ WeVe pulled off 
a good many events since Jake took command.” 

“Yes,” she said slowly. “He is a genius with horses.” 

“Oh, quite useful,” said Saltash carelessly. “Well, 
good night to you both! Many thanks for your kind 
hospitality! Don’t forget the piano at the Castle! Come 
and go exactly as you like! I will give orders to that 
effect.” 


176 


The Hundredth Chance 


‘‘You are very kind,’* she said. 

But the pleasant intimacy between them was broken. 
She knew that her refusal to go with him on the morrow had 
hurt him. He was in a mood to sting at a touch. 

She gave him her hand with genuine regret. “Good-bye, 
Charlie!” she said gently. 

He took it with a gesture that made her remember that 
his mother had been a Frenchwoman. “Good night, ma 
chere!'* he said lightly. “When thou art dreaming, think 
of me!” 

Her faint laugh had a note of bitterness. “But I never 
dream, ” she said. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE NARROWING CIRCLE 

W HEN Jake retiimed at length, he entered an atmos- 
phere so unmistakably stormy that he looked in- 
stinctively to Maud for an explanation. 

The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was 
sitting in the low chair by the fire doing some intricate 
crochet-work with knitted brows. There was tension in her 
attitude, tension in the firm compression of her lips. 

Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating 
an impatient tattoo with one hand on the table by his side. 
On the table lay the presents that he had received that 
day, a box of paints and sketching block from his mother, a 
book from Maud, a small telescope from Jake himself. But 
he was looking at none of them. His brows too were closely 
drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip. 

Maud did not raise her eyes at Jake’s entrance. She 
seemed intent upon her work. He came and stood beside 
her. 

f “I should have been back sooner,” he remarked, “but 
^Lord Saltash met me, and I had to take him back to the 
Castle in the dog-cart. ” 

Her fingers moved very rapidly. “I thought perhaps 
you would dine with him, ” she said, in a voice that sounded 
very cold and aloof. 

“Not I,” said Jake. “Give me my own fireside, and my 
old clay pipe that doesn’t go into aristocratic society!” 
la 177 


178 


The Hundredth Chance 


She raised her eyes momentarily. “Are you a Social- 
ist?” she asked. 

His eyes were unblinkingly upon her. “I guess not,” 
he said, speaking with something of a drawl. “IVe seen 
life — lots of it — ^that’s all. As to my politics, well, I reckon 
they’re mine and no one else’s. I think just what I like of 
everything and everybody.” He turned those intent eyes 
suddenly upon Bunny. “What’s wrong with the head of 
the family?” he asked. 

At once Bunny burst into speech. “Jake, it’s — it’s 
infernal that I can’t go to the races in Charlie’s motor — 
to-morrow. He’s offered to take me. Why shouldn’t I 
go? Hang it all, I will go!” He banged his clenched fist 
upon the table with the last passionate words. 

Maud kept her eyes upon her work. Her hands though 
they moved so rapidly, were not wholly steady. “ He is not 
fit to go,” she said. 

“That’s not the reason you refused!” flimg back Bunny, 
who was rapidly working himself up to fever pitch. “You 
said No just because you thought Jake would be jealous if 
you said you’d go. You’re afraid of him, that’s what’s 
the matter with you, — afraid of his finding out that you’re 
still in love with Charlie.” 

He broke into his cracked, painful laugh, stopping 
abruptly as Jake left the hearth and stepped quietly to 
his side. 

“Don’t touch me!” he said, shrinking sharply back. 

Jake stooped. His face was grim. “ My son, I’m going to 
touch you, ’ ’ he said. “I’m going to carry you straight up to 
bed. You’ve had more than enough excitement for to-day. ” 

“ I’m not going to bed!” cried Bunny, his voice high and 
defiant. “I’m not going for hours yet. Jake — Jake — 
leave me alone, do you hear? You’re hurting me!” 

“Afraid you’ve got to be hurt,” said Jake. 

He was slipping steady hands under the boy’s writhing 


The Narrowing Circle 179 

body. Maud had risen. She came swiftly forward. She 
touched Jake’s shoulder, her face pale and agitated. 

“Don’t, please, Jake!” she entreated. “It does more 
harm than good. ” 

He did not look at her or pay the smallest attention. 
Bunny was already in his arms, — Bunny, purple with rage, 
waving his arms in blind impotence. 

“P’raps you’d open the door for me!” said Jake, in his 
slow gentle voice. 

She went to the door. Somehow it was the only thing 
left to do. Jake followed her with his burden. 

As he did so, Bunny ceased to struggle, realizing the 
mastery of the steady arms that bore him, and spoke in a 
voice of tense hostility. 

“You beastly groom!” he said. 

Jake said nothing whatever. He carried him firmly, 
unfalteringly, from the room. 

Maud closed the door softly behind him, and went back 
to her chair. 

But she did not take up her work again. She sat gazing 
into the fire with wide, troubled eyes. She was beginning 
to realize that old associations, old friends, could be nothing 
but a disturbing element in her life, beginning to wish with 
yearning sadness that Charlie had not come back into it. 
She was tired — so tired, so sick at heart. 

As for Bunny, he had grown out of hand and would never 
be the same to her again. She was sure of it, she was sure of 
it. Nothing ever could be the same again in this new world 
that she had entered. It was a world of harsh realities, 
wherein dwelt no softening magic. The fate she had 
dreaded was surely closing in upon her. Whichever way 
she turned, she found a narrowing circle. 

A long time passed. She began to grow anxious. What 
was happening upstairs? Was it possible that Jake might 
after all lose his temper and visit his wrath upon Bunny’s 


i8o 


The Hundredth Chance 


rebellious head? Would he by any chance make use of 
that frightful language which she had heard him employ 
only a few days before to a negligent stable-boy ? Bunny’s 
bitter epithet dwelt in her memory. Surely Jake would be 
something more than human if he did not resent it ! 

And then suddenly she heard his square footfall on the 
uncarpeted stairs, and a great wave of agitation went 
through her. All her being quivered at the thought of him, 
his unyielding mastery, his utter confidence. Two eyes, one 
black, one grey, seemed to flash a mocking question out of 
the depths of the fire into which she gazed. Her heart gave 
a little quiver of misgiving that yet was oddly mingled with 
satisfaction. No, she was not wholly sorry that Lord Sal- 
tash had come back into her life. He was so subtly refresh- 
ing. He sounded deeps in her of which none other guessed. 
His gaiety of soul called back her vanished youth. 

Jake entered, and she turned her head, masking her 
embarrassment with a resolute effort. “Oh, Jake, come 
and sit down! I am so sorry this has happened. ” 

He pulled forward a chair and dropped into it. “The 
little chap is overtired,” he said. “He’ll be better left to 
himself for a bit. ” 

He spoke in a quiet, temperate voice. She realized with 
relief that he had not taken Bunny’s bitter outburst seri- 
ously. She took up her work again. 

“He is always difficult to manage when he gets caught 
by one of these moods,” she said. “And he is apt to say 
wild things. ” 

Jake began to fill his pipe, making no comment. 

Maud worked on for several seconds, still struggling 
against an uneasy feeling of shyness. 

After a little, in a low voice she spoke again. “Jake, 
I think — ^with you — ^that if Dr. Capper will examine Bunny 
and — and perhaps operate on him, it had better be done — as 
soon as possible. ” 


The Narrowing Circle i8i 

“That so?” said Jake. 

She knew that he turned his head to look at her, and a 
hot sense of discomfiture surged through her. She worked 
with fevered speed, as if much depended upon it. 

“Of course — of course I want him to have — every chance. 
I am not so selfish as that. But — but — the anxiety will be 
very hard to bear. I dread it more than I can possibly 
say.” 

Her lips quivered suddenly. She became silent, still 
desperately making stitches that she could hardly see. 
She had not meant to make any appeal for sympathy. It 
had, as it were, escaped her from sheer embarrassment. 
She had never felt more utterly ill at ease in Jake’s presence 
than she felt that night. 

He did not immediately respond though she knew that he 
continued to watch her with those lynx-like, brilliant eyes. 
But after a very decided pause, his hand, square and steady, 
came forth and stopped her fevered working. 

“Sit still for a bit, my girl!” he said. “Give yourself 
a rest!” 

She started sharply at his touch, but gave in at once, 
suffering him to draw the work from her hands. 

“ Say, now,” he said, “when you married me, I made my- 
self a vow that you shouldn’t be burdened any more beyond 
your strength. This anxiety you speak of, will it be harder 
to bear than to see Bunny suffering and not be able to 
help?” 

She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears. 

“Guess you’re overwrought,” he said gently. “Why 
don’t you lie down on the sofa? P’raps you’d get a sleep. ” 

She mastered herself with an effort. “No, thank you. 
I am quite all right. Of course Bunny’s welfare comes 
before everything and always will with me. Do you know, 
I think I will run up to him and see that he has all he 
wants.” 


The Hundredth Chance 


182 

“No, my girl, no! You stay where you are!“ said Jake. 
“I’ve got him in hand. Don’t you go making more 
trouble!” 

She glanced at him with quick uneasiness. “But is he 
happy? Is he comfortable? I never leave him for long 
when he is like this. Once he dragged himself right out of 
bed and on to the floor. He was worse for weeks 
after.” 

“He won’t do that to-night,” said Jake. 

But she was not reassured. “He may. How can you 
tell? He can be quite violent sometimes. ” 

“He won’t be to-night,” said Jake with unmistakable 
conviction. 

‘ ‘ What have you been doing to him ? ” she said, with quick 
suspicion. 

He put a restraining hand upon her for she seemed on 
the verge of rising. “Now, don’t you meddle!” he said. 
“ The boy will be all right ; only leave him alone ! He won’t 
come to any mischief because he can’t. I’ve tied him down. 
No, he ain’t uncomfortable,” as she uttered a sharp cry of 
protest. “ I saw to that before I put out the light and left 
him to come to his senses. He won’t hurt, I tell you. You 
leave him alone!” 

But Maud was already on her feet. “How could you?” 
she panted. ‘ ‘ How dare you ? ’ ’ 

He rose with her, still holding her. “Now be reason- 
able!” he said, in a voice of soft persuasion “I’m real 
fond of the little chap, and I’m trying to make a man of 
him. He knows that all right. It’s discipline he wants 
and discipline he’s going to have. Don’t you get inter- 
fering! You’ll do more harm than good.” 

“Let me go!” breathed Maud. 

She was white to the lips as she said it, white and desper- 
ate. Her eyes burned like two stars. But Jake held her 
still. 


The Narrowing Circle 183 

“Say, now!” he drawled. “Aren’t you a bit unreason- 
able? I’ve taken a lot of trouble to bring him into line. 
And, as I tell you, I haven’t hurt any part of him, except his 
pride, and that’ll soon mend. Maud, my girl, now don’t 
act the fool! Don’t, I say, don’t!” 

She had made a sharp effort to wrest her arm free ; but 
he frustrated it, taking her two wrists very gently but very 
decidedly into his square hold. 

“Let me go!” she cried again, her pale lips trembling. 
“How — ^how dare you hold me against my will? Jake, 
you — forget yourself ! ” 

He was looking at her with a hint of humour in his red- 
brown eyes. They were shining too, shining with a hot 
intensity, as though the leaping flames of the fire were re- 
flected there. But at her words, he let her go very abruptly 
and turned from her. He took up his pipe again, stand- 
ing so that she saw only his broad back and gleaming hair, 
while she waited behind him in palpitating silence. 

Some seconds passed before he spoke. And then: 
“All right, my girl,” he said. “ Have it your own way ! I 
reckon he’s your brother more than mine, and I know you 
have his welfare at heart. If you think it to his interest to 
go and undo him — he ain’t uncomfortable, mind you! I 
saw to that — I shan’t interfere either way Do whatever 
seems good to you!” 

So he delivered himself, and having spoken sat squarely 
down and pulled out his match-box as though the matter 
were at an end. 

She stood irresolute, facing him. 

“Well? Aren’t you going?” he said, after a moment. 

And still she stood, feeling the strain to be past yet 
not daring to relax her guard. 

Jake struck a match and held it to his pipe, looking 
at her whimsically between great puffs of smoke. 

“There! Sit down!” he said, after a moment. “Leave 


104 The Hundredth Chance 

the child alone for a bit! I’ll go up to him myself before 
long.” 

Casual as was his voice, the force of his personality 
reached and dominated her. It was certainly not of her 
own volition that she obeyed. 

She sat down again in the low chair before the hearth. 
“ I know he will have a bad night, ” she said uneasily. 

“It won’t be any the worse for this,” said Jake, with 
confidence. “And, now, look here, my girl, I want to ask 
you something — just in a friendly way. ” 

Maud’s hands clasped each other hard. There was no 
repose in her attitude. “What is it?” she asked, in that 
aloof voice of hers that emanated from intense shyness 
rather than pride. 

Jake was smoking steadily. The heavy odour of his 
tobacco filled the room. “I don’t want to give any of- 
fence, ” he said. “ But it seems to me that Lord Saltash is 
on a footing of intimacy with you and Bunny that rather 
points to your not knowing the sort of person he really is. ” 

Maud’s eyes grew suddenly darker. She looked him 
full in the face. “I know him too well to discuss him with 
any — outsider, ” she said. 

“That so?” said Jake, slightly drawling. “Well, that 
certainly makes matters rather more complicated. I know 
him, too — awfully well, — so well that I shall have to request 
you to keep the young man at a respectful distance; for he 
certainly won’t stay there if you don’t.” 

Maud sat tensely still. Several moments of utter silence 
passed away. Then, almost under her breath, she spoke. 
“Are you absurd enough to be jealous?” 

Jake’s eyes watched her unwaveringly through the 
smoke. “Would it be very absurd of me?” he asked 
gravely. 

“ Utterly. ” She spoke the one word with a free disdain. 

He bent his head slightly. “Since you say so — it goes. 


The Narrowing Circle 185 

At the same time, it might be well for you to remember that 
Lord Saltash invariably hunts for himself. He is not a 
man that any woman can safely trust. He has his points, 
maybe, but — he is not sound.” 

Very steadily he delivered his verdict, and Maud received 
it in unbroken silence. More or less she knew it to be 
true, and yet very bitterly did she resent its utterance. It 
was as if he had exposed to her the worthlessness of a 
possession which for old sake’s sake she treasured though 
conscious that in itself it was without value. For she had 
never idealized Charlie Bur Chester. Even in the old days 
of close intimacy she had always seen the feet of clay, though 
in her fond woman’s way she had sought to overlook them. 
It was intolerable to have them pointed out to her by one 
whom she still curiously regarded as a comparative stranger. 

She had nothing to say on her friend’s behalf. Reason 
warned her that it would be useless to attempt to take 
up the cudgels in his defence. And so she sat in silence, 
inwardly burning, outwardly calm. 

Jake smoked on for several minutes, then quietly rose. 
*‘I’ll go up and settle the youngster now,” he said. “And 
you have made up your mind on the other subject? I am 
to write to Capper?” 

She did not answer for a moment; her eyes were fixed 
upon the fire. 

He paused beside her, and again there came to her that 
sense of warmth, of bodily force, that seemed to reach her 
from the very centre of the man’s being, rushing out to her, 
enveloping her. 

She made a slight, involuntary movement of withdrawal. 
“I have said so,” she said. 

He paused no longer. “Then so be it!” he said, and 
walked away to the door. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


BROTHERS 


“IS that you, Jake?" 

1 Outraged pride and sullen submission combined in the 
utterance of the question. The room was in complete 
darkness. 

“Yes, it’s me,” said Jake. 

He went forward into the darkness, feeling out before 
him. 

“Why don’t you strike a match?” said Bunny. 

Jake found the bed and stood beside it. “Going to 
behave yourself, my son?” he asked. 

There was silence from the bed, a dogged, uncompromis- 
ing silence. 

Jake stooped. Feeling over the boy’s body, he began to 
undo his bonds. 

“Say, Bunny, I reckoned you were a bigger man than 
this,” he said. 

Bunny remained silent, stiff and unyielding. 

Jake completed his task and stood up. “If you’re want- 
ing to tell me to go to blazes, you may as well say it as 
not,” he said. 

“I’m not,” growled Bunny. “But you’ve no right to 
treat me like a dog. I’m not used to it. ” 

“A damn’ good hiding is what you’re most in need of,” 
said Jake, in his soft, imperturbable voice. “You’d learn a 
lot that way. There’s too much pride in your family, my 

i86 


Brothers 


187 


son, and it ain’t always the proper sort of pride either. It’s 
likely to lead you into difficulties. ” He paused a moment; 
then bent again, his hand moving lightly upwards over the 
bedclothes. ‘ ‘ Say, Bunny, climb down a bit ; climb down ! ” 
he said. “I can’t get within a mile of you on that high 
horse of yours. ” 

There was a hint of coaxing in the words and action 
to which Bunny taken by surprise made instant almost 
involuntary response. With a swift, passionate movement, 
he caught the persuasive hand. 

'‘Old chap — ” he said, and stopped, breaking off short. 

There followed a few, pulsing seconds, during which 
Jake’s hand was pressed hard against a burning face. Then, 
very suddenly Bunny cast his pride wholly from him and 
burst into choking tears. 

“Little feller! Little feller!” said Jake, and gathered 
him into arms that were full of motherly comfort. 

He sat down on the bed, so holding him, rocking him 
a little, soothing him in the darkness that seemed to banish 
all barriers and link them in a brotherhood more close than 
either had anticipated before that moment. 

Bunny’s surrender was complete and unconditional. He 
clung fast to Jake with whispered words of penitence. 
“I’m always like that when I feel bad. I’ve had that filthy 
neuralgia in my back ever since tea. It makes me want to 
bite and kick. I didn’t mean to be a beast to you, Jake. I 
take back all I said. You’ll forget it — say you’ll forget it ! ” 

“I have forgotten it,” Jake assured him. “Don’t you 
fret now!” 

Bunny burrowed into his shoulder. “You’re so beastly 
good to a fellow. But you’re right — quite right — about 
the hiding. I only wish you could give me one. It’s just 
that I want.” 

“No — no!” Jake said tenderly. “I wouldn’t lay a 
finger on you. ” 


i88 The Hundredth Chance 

“You would if I were sound,” protested Bimny, strang- 
ling a sob. 

But Jake shook his head. “No, sonny, no! I was 
wrong. It ain’t the treatment for a soft-hearted little chap 
like you. I’ve been used to dealing with roughs, and I’m 
rough myself. I try not to be; but there it is. You’ve 
sensed it, and so has Maud. But — I say it now, and I’ll 
stick to it — I’ll never use violence to you as long as I 
live.” 

“Jake, old boy, that’s rot! — I — I like you to smack my 
head sometimes,” bltuted forth Bunny, still in accents of 
distress. 

Jake laughed a little. “Well, maybe. I’ll do that now 
and then, seeing we’re brothers.” He was rubbing the 
head with a caressing hand as he spoke.' “You know, I’ve 
got a sort of liking for you, little pard; and I want you to 
grow up a man. ” 

“How can I?” said Bunny very bitterly. 

“It ain’t the body that makes the man,” said Jake 
gently. “Physical conditions don’t matter two cents. 
Reckon if you were to be a cripple all your days, you could 
still be a great man. But, please God, you won’t be a 
cripple always. My friend Capper — you’ve heard me talk of 
him — he’s coming over from the States, and maybe he’ll 
be able to put you right. We’ll give him the chance, eh. 
Bunny? We’ll get him anyway to come along and look at 
you.” 

Bunny’s frail body had begim to tremble. He held very 
fast to Jake’s arm. “Oh, Jake!” he whispered. 

“Guess it’s a big proposition,” said Jake. “But you’ve 
got spunk for anything. I’m going to send him a letter 
right away. Maud views the matter as we do. She says, 
the sooner the better.” 

“Whatever made her say that?” said Bunny curiously. 

“She was thinking of you,” said Jake. “She thinks 


Brothers 


189 


more of you than of anyone else ;;in the world. Reckon 
you owe her a mighty lot, Bunny. Ever thought of 
that?’’ 

“Reckon she’d be rather lost without me,” said Bunny 
perversely. 

“Not for long, ” said Jake. 

“She would,” persisted Bunny. “If I were to get well, 
she’d be glad for my sake, but she’d be utterly miserable for 
her own.” 

He spoke with the shrewdness that years of passive 
observation had wrought in him — a shrewdness that some- 
how lifted him above the plane of ordinary unthinking boy- 
hood. Almost instinctively Jake responded to it. He 
spoke to Bunny as though he had been a man. 

“She won’t be miserable when she has children of her own 
to look after, ” he said. “ That’s what she wants, and what 
I want too. They’ll make all the difference in the world 
to her. ” 

Bunny was momentarily surprised. This was a possi- 
bility that had not occurred to him. “Oh, that’s the idea, 
is it?” he said. 

“What’s the matter with it?” said Jake. 

“I don’t know,” said Bunny. “Somehow I don’t seem 
to realize that she actually is married to you. ” 

“She doesn’t realize it either,” said Jake rather shortly. 

“ That’s because you don’t make love to her, ” said Bunny 
wisely. “Why, you don’t even kiss her, do you?” 

“I haven’t.” Jake’s voice was an odd compound of 
humour and dissatisfaction. 

“Why on earth don’t you?” said Bunny. 

“You’d better ask her, ” said Jake somewhat grimly. 

* * Aren’t you friends ? ’ ’ There was quick sympathy in the 
boy’s voice. “ I know Maud is a bit difficult to get on with. 
She was very odd even to Charlie this evening when he 
wanted us to go to the races with him. Why shouldn’t we 


190 


The Hundredth Chance 


have gone, Jake? She knew I wanted to, and she used to 
like it herself/' 

An echo of resentment sounded in the question. Bunny 
had plainly not wholly buried his grievance. 

“I’ll take you one day, my son, when you’re stronger,” 
Jake promised. “And Maud too — if she’s keen. I didn’t 
know she was. She didn’t tell me so. ” 

“She doesn’t tell you everything, does she?” said Bunny, 
giving him a squeeze. 

“Reckon she’s half afraid of me,” said Jake. “What 
reason did she give for not going with Lord Saltash?” 

“Oh, none. She just said we couldn’t. Charlie wasn’t 
best pleased about it. Charlie can be rather hot stuff 
when he isn’t pleased.” 

Jake uttered a dry laugh. “Did he make himself un- 
pleasant?” 

“No. But he cleared out almost at once. You see, he 
always used to be able to twist Maud round his little finger 
— till she broke with him. ” 

Jake’s arms suddenly grew tense about the slim boyish 
body he held. “Say, young feller! Will you tell me some- 
thing?” he said. 

“ Of course! If I can, ” said Bunny. 

“Just this — only this,” said Jake, his voice sunk to a 
whisper. “Have you any reah reason — any good reason — 
for believing that Maud still cares for this old flame of hers? 
Honestly now! Was there any truth in what you said 
downstairs?” 

“ Oh, Jake, I’m beastly sorry I said it ! ” Bunny turned a 
distressed face upwards, pressing his hot forehead hard 
against Jake’s neck. 

“All right. You needn’t answer. ” Jake’s words seemed to 
come from between his teeth. “It’s what I suspected all 
along. It won’t make any difference in the end, so you needn’t 
be upset about it. I always knew I was taking chances. ” 


Brothers 


191 

“She’d soon forget him if you started making love to 
her,” Bunny assured him. “Why don’t you, Jake? Why 
don’t you?” 

“Ah! Why don’t I?” Jake uttered again his dry, some- 
what scoffing laugh. “ P’raps I’m waiting for someone else 
to make the running. But don’t you bother your head 
about that, my son! I shall get home on the straight — or 
perish in the attempt. ” 

He stooped, and laid Bunny gently down on the pillows. 

“I’ll light yoiu* lamp now and leave you. Maud will 
be up with your supper directly.” 

But Bunny clung to his arm. “You’ll come back, Jake? 
You — you’ll sleep with me?” 

“Oh, yes, I’ll sleep with you — if Maud will let me.” 
Jake’s voice held ironic humour. “But it’s a sore point, I 
warn you.” 

“Of course she’ll let you. She can’t help herself. She 
knows I’m ten times more comfortable with you to look 
after me. It’s jolly decent of you, Jake. ” Bunny hugged 
the arm a little closer. “ Sure you’ve forgiven me for being 
such a beast?” 

“Shucks, lad! Don’t think any more about it! We’re 
all beasts sometimes, though we don’t all take the trouble to 
be sorry afterwards.” Jake stooped abruptly and kissed 
his forehead — a token received by Bunny with a satisfaction 
as great as his surprise. “Be decent to Maud, little chap 1 ” 
he said. “Remember, nearly the whole of her life has been 
one big sacrifice to you!” 

“Oh, I know she’s a brick,” Bunny said quickly. “I’m 
awfully fond of her of course. You— I suppose you’re fond 
of her too, Jake?” 

He put the question with slight hesitation, not wholly 
certain as to whether Jake would welcome it, yet oddly 
desirous of a reply. 

Jake had withdrawn his arm. He stood by the bed in 


192 


The Hundredth Chance 


the darkness, only dimly visible to Bunny — a square, power- 
ful figure, of rock-like strength, endued with the hard 
endurance that springs in the wilderness and is the natiu*al 
heritage of beasts and savage tribes, coming but seldom 
upon the sons of adoption. 

He did not speak at all for several seconds, and Bunny 
began to wonder if he had given offence. Then suddenly 
he stretched out his arms with a wide, fierce gesture as of 
one who would seize and hold in the face of any odds. 

“My God!” he said, and in his voice was a deep throb 
as of a force that rose unfettered from the very heart of the 
man. “ I — worship her I ” 

In the awed silence that followed the words, his arms 
fell. He stood a second or two as one in a dream striving 
to grip afresh the realities of life. Then, quite calmly he 
turned aside and crossed the room to light the lamp. 

Btinny, watching him, marvelled that the kindling flame 
revealed only the resolute face and steady eyes of the man 
he knew. For it seemed to him that another man had 
spoken in the darkness. 


CHAPTER XXV 


MISADVENTURE 

L ord SALTASH had the satisfaction of seeing one of 
his own animals a winner at the Gray down meeting on 
the following day, a circumstance which plainly gave him 
the keenest pleasure. He joined his trainer at the conclu- 
sion of the event and warmly congratulated him. 

Jake was himself well-pleased. He had worked hard for 
the victory, and the horse was a particular favourite with 
him. But he did not betray any especial gratification at 
his patron’s openly expressed approval, receiving it with 
the reticence that Maud had remarked in him the day 
before. 

Lord Saltash, however, seemed bent upon breaking down 
all reserve. He treated him with easy familiarity, chatted 
upon a thousand subjects, received suggestions with cordial- 
ity, and finally, when the races were over, insisted upon 
motoring him home in the open car which he invariably 
drove himself when at Burchester, and which was the terror 
of the countryside. 

The evening was chill and mist-laden. “With your per- 
mission we’ll go steady, ” Jake said, as they left the teeming 
race-course behind. 

“What ! Nervous ? ” laughed Saltash. 

“I have a wife to think of,” was Jake’s unmoved reply. 
“Oh, to be sure!” A hint of mockery ran through the 
words. “What an artful fox you were to go and get mar- 
13 193 


194 The Hundredth Chance 

ried on the sly like that! If I’d known, I’d have come to 
the wedding. ” 

“It wasn’t much of an affair,” said Jake. “And it had 
to take place at short notice, or I should have told you 
about it. ” 

“ Perhaps it wouldn’t have taken place at all if you had, ” 
laughed Lord Salt ash. “You know' the legend of Young 
Lochinvar. And — ” his dark face screwed up into a comic 
grimace — “I presume you know my reputation.” 

“Almost as well as I know you, my lord,” said Jake 
drily. 

Saltash sent him a sharp glance through the gathering 
twilight. He was driving swiftly but well. “Nobody 
ever really knows anybody in this world of noughts and 
crosses,” he observed, lightly after a moment. “It’s a 
queer place, Bolton. ‘fAnd it isn’t always the fellows that 
gather the fruit that enjoy the eating thereof. Ever re- 
flected on that truism ? ” 

“I reckon it couldn’t apply to me in any case,” drawled 
Jake, turning up his collar and settling into it with square 
deliberation. 

“Because you’re one of the favoured few?” questioned 
Saltash. 

There was an unmistakably jeering note in his voice 
this time. A faint smile came into Jake’s face. His eyes 
stared straight before him. 

“ Maybe so, ” he said. “ But my opinion is, if a man can’t 
hold his own, — ^well, he deserves to lose it. ” 

Saltash laughed aloud. “It isn’t always brute force that 
counts, most worthy cow-puncher. There is such a thing 
as brains.” 

“You don’t say!” said Jake in a tone of gentle incredulity 
and, in a moment : “ Do you mind reining in a bit ? We’re 
coming to a cross-roads. ” 

“You’re mighty nervous!” gibed Saltash. 


Misadventure 


195 


“It’s safer,** said Jake imperturbably. 

They dropped into silence with one consent. 

Saltash was obviously inclined to recklessness though he 
seemed for awhile to be trying to restrain the impulse. 
They shot through the gathering darkness with ever-increas- 
ing speed. 

Jake made no further protest. He sat sphinx-like, gazing 
straight ahead through the misty wind-screen. The dis- 
tance from Gray down to Fairharbour was scarcely ten miles. 
Lord Saltash chose the shortest route, bumping through bye 
lanes, whizzing round unexpected corners, shooting uphill 
like a rocket, dropping down again like a thunderbolt. 

He drove with a skill that was in its way magnificent, 
but the entire run was a series of risks such as only the 
driver could enjoy. 

It was evident that he speedily forgot the presence of his 
companion, and Jake did not remind him of it. Perhaps 
he deemed it inadvisable to divert his attention in any way 
from the task in hand. 

For nearly a quarter of an hour of rapid travelling he 
spoke no word. Saltash was humming to himself an old 
tune with a waltz refrain which seemed to give him con- 
siderable pleasure. 

They were drawing near the outskirts of Burchester Park 
when abruptly he broke off, and spoke. “I want you to 
come up to lunch on Sunday, you and Maud and the boy. ’* 

He spoke jerkily, almost curtly. Jake turned his head. 

“Have you put the proposition before— my wife?” he 
asked. 

“Oh, I asked her to come of course,** said Saltash care- 
lessly. “I didn*t mention any particular day. Why? 
Have you any reason to suppose she would refuse?** 

He laughed as he said it, but there was a challenging note 
in his laugh. 

Jake passed the question by. “It is real kind of your 


196 


The Hundredth Chance 


lordship to think of it,” he said. “I can’t— of course- 
answer for my wife or the lad; but I shall be very pleased 
to come. ” 

Saltash made a curious sound half of ridicule, half of 
exasperation. *‘If she doesn’t come, I shall know whose 
doing it is, ” he said, with a touch of malice. 

Jake was silent. 

Impatiently Saltash turned towards him. *^Look here, 
Bolton,” he said aggressively; “it’s no manner of use your 
raising any objection to the intimacy between us. It be- 
gan long before you came on the scene, and it’s going to 
continue. Understand?” 

“ Look where you’re going ! ” said Jake. “ Or else jam on 
the brake!” 

He uttered the words with a sharpness so unexpected 
that Saltash started. As a consequence, the car swerved 
and instantly skidded in the mud, jerking the wheel from his 
hold. In a moment they were half-way up a steep bank 
at the side of the road, and a moment after with a crash of 
splintering glass they were over, flung headlong into the 
roadway. 

“Damn!” said Jake. 

“ Damnation ! ” cried Lord Saltash with violence. “ It was 
your fault ! What the devil did you startle me like that for ? ” 

He sprang up with the agility of a monkey, unscathed 
and furious. 

Jake remained seated in the mud. He was panting a little 
but his speech when it came was unhurried. 

“What the blazes did you want to drive at that prepos- 
terous speed for, you all-fired fool?” he said. 

“Eh? What?” Saltash stamped in the mud to relieve his 
feelings. “Do you dare to say it was my fault?” 

“I say you’re an all-fired fool,” said Jake, with the de- 
liberation of one who has come to an unalterable decision. 
“You can draw your own conclusions from that.” 


Misadventure 


197 


He proceeded to get up with an effort so obvious that 
Saltash’s attention was caught. ‘‘Hullo! You’re hurt, 
are you ? Where ? ’ ’ 

“I reckon that’s what I’ve got to find out,” said Jake. 
“Maybe it’s no worse than a broken head. What about 
you?” 

“Oh, I’m all right,” Saltash declared impatiently. “I 
say, are you really hurt, man? Curse this dark! Wait 
while I strike a match!” 

“Curse everything!” said Jake whole-heartedly. “I 
wonder if there’s a lamp not smashed. ” 

Saltash struck a match and regarded him by its flare. 
“Great Scott!” he ejaculated in dismay. 

For the illumination had revealed to him that which he 
had certainly not expected to see; one side of Jake’s face 
streaming with blood. 

Jake strove ineffectually to staunch the flow with a hand- 
kerchief. “I don’t know where the mischief is exactly,” 
he said. “Somewhere above the temple, I fancy. Don’t 
alarm yourself, my lord. I always bleed like a pig. It’s 
my nature to. ” 

A faint grim smile drew his mouth with the words. He 
looked at Saltash with eyes of steady mastery. “Let me 
hold that match!” he said. “P’raps you wouldn’t mind 
locating the mischief. ” 

Saltash, genuinely disturbed, complied with this sugges- 
tion, and discovered a deep, jagged cut on Jake’s forehead. 

“I say, this is a bad business!” he said, as the match 
went out. “Are you feeling bad?” 

“Oh, not in the least,” said Jake drily. “Sorry to give 
you so much trouble.” 

“ My dear fellow, I’m sorrier than you are, ” declared Salt- 
ash impulsively. “ I’ve driven for ten years and never had 
a smash before. Here, strike another match and let me 
see what I can do!” 


198 


The Hundredth Chance 


It was no easy matter to bandage adequately under such 
conditions, but Saltash was not without a certain rudi- 
mentary skill. He went to work with business-like prompti- 
tude, and had succeeded in securing a handkerchief round 
Jake’s head with a firmness calculated at least to check the 
flow of blood when the sound of wheels warned them of the 
approach of some vehicle. 

It proved to be the dog-cart of a farmer known to them 
both who was himself returning from the races; and Saltash 
was relieved beyond measure to bundle Jake into the cart 
and see him depart for home. He remained with the over- 
turned car till help should arrive from the Stables. 

Jake also was not sorry to find himself jogging homeward, 
unpleasant though he found the jogging to be. He was 
nearer to collapse than he would have allowed. 

He sat with his head in his hands, struggling desperately 
against a deadly sense of weakness that threatened every 
instant to overcome him. 

His companion was full of solicitude. “Whatever will 
your missus say?” he said, as they drew near the Stables. 

Jake roused himself. “Don’t drive in!” he said. “Put 
me down at the gates! I must make myself respectable 
before I go in.” 

“Lor’ bless you man, if she’s a woman of sense she’d 
sooner know the worst at once,” declared the old farmer. 
“ Don’t ever try to hide anything from your wife ! It don’t 
pay. I’ve been married three times, so I ought to know. ” 

But Jake adhered firmly to his intention of descending 
at the gates, resolutely declining all further help; and there 
his friend left him, driving away with the reflection that 
there was sure to be someone about to give him a hand. 

As it chanced, there was no one in the stable-yard when 
Jake entered it. He staggered forward over the stones like 
a drunken man, his cap pulled forward over his face, feeling 
vaguely out before him with his hands. His brain was 


Misadventure 


199 


reeling, and he did not know how he covered the ground or 
maintained his balance. So dazed was he that he did not 
even realize that he reached the white railings before his 
home, and only awoke to the fact when he had been leaning 
upon them for some time. 

With an immense effort he pulled himself together and 
made his way to the door. Here the thought of Maud made 
him pause. She must not see him like this. Then, re- 
flecting that she would almost certainly be safe upstairs 
with Bunny who had not left his room that day, he fumbled 
with the door, opened it, and entered. 

All was quiet within with the quiet of a well-ordered 
household. The passage was dimly lit. Slowly he made 
his halting way along it, reached the stairs and stopped at 
the foot, leaning on the banisters while he summoned his 
strength. At last, heavily, like a man in a trance, he began 
to mount. 

The stairs' seemed endless. Once or twice he stum- 
bled. At the top he slipped and came down upon his 
knees. 

“Oh damn!” he ejaculated, with weary vehemence. 

At the same moment Bunny’s door opened, and he heard 
the light tread of a woman’s feet close to him. 

She was coming towards him, moving swiftly, when sud- 
denly something seemed to strike her. She stopped dead, 
recoiling as from a thing unclean. 

“Jake!” she said. 

He heard the frozen horror in her voice and thrust out a 
groping hand. “It’s all right, my girl. Don’t be scared! 
I didn’t mean you to see me — like this. ” 

She drew back from him sharply, speaking no word, gaz- 
ing at him in the dim light with eyes of wide abhorrence. 

ail right,” he said again, and with a labouring 
effort managed to blunder to his feet. 

She drew back still further. He saw her slim white 


200 


The Hundredth Chance 


figure standing before him erect and rigid against the wall. 
He caught the blazing scorn of her blue eyes. 

“Say, Maud,’' he said in confused apology, “you’re 
looking kind of vexed. It wasn’t — any fault of mine. It 
was — it was — that fool — Saltash. ” He spoke the name 
with difiSculty. His tongue felt dry and powerless. “Guess 
I want a drink, ” he said. 

She spoke then, briefly and witheringly. “You had 
better go to bed and stay there till you feel better. There 
is plenty of water in your room if you want it. ” 

Her words were icy. He felt as if she had flung the water 
of which she spoke full in his face. And then suddenly the 
truth flashed upon him, and he uttered a laugh. 

' ‘ Columbus ! ” he said. * ‘ I believe you think I’m tipsy ! ” 

She did not attempt to contradict him. “You had 
better go to bed, ” she reiterated. 

He put up a trembling hand, but it was only to draw the 
cap down further still over his face. “I reckon I’d better, ” 
he said, and staggered past her to his room. 

The door closed behind him, and Maud turned, white and 
quivering, from the scene. 

“0 God!” she whispered passionately. “What have I 
done ? What have I done ? ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE WORD UNSPOKEN 

I T was late that night when Mrs. Lovelace called Maud 
out of Bunny’s room with a white, scared face to tell 
her that Lord Saltash was below asking for her. 

“He wanted Mr. Bolton first,” she said, “but I told him 
as I didn’t know if he was back, and then he said something 
about a slight motor accident and seemed surprised like 
that Mr. Bolton hadn’t come home. ” 

“It’s all right. He is home,” Maud said. “There is 
no need to be anxious about him. ” She hesitated a mo- 
ment; then: “Tell Lord Saltash so!” she said. “I think I 
won’t come down now. He will understand. ” 

Nevertheless, after she had dismissed the old woman, 
something prompted her to go and listen at Jake’s door. 
She was convinced in her own mind that there had been no 
accident. Charlie had seen her husband’s condition and 
was anxious to know if he had returned home safely. That 
was the explanation, doubtless, and she felt she could not 
face him. 

She listened intently, but she heard no sound. Jake 
was sleeping no doubt, sleeping heavily. An overwhelm- 
ing disgust came upon her. She turned shuddering 
away. 

Mrs. Lovelace came wheezing back. Lord Saltash had 
gone. Was Mr. Bolton all right? Should she fetch him 
anything? 


201 


202 


The Hundredth Chance 


No, Maud was quite sure he wanted nothing. He was 
asleep and Mrs. Lovelace had better go to bed. 

But she herself remained up till long after, in dread of a 
summons for Jake from Sam Vickers or some other of the 
men at the Stables. Probably they all suspected what had 
happened, but she felt that at all costs she must prevent 
the shameful certainty reaching them. It was too horrible, 
too lowering to her own personal pride. Very strangely it 
was that overpowering sense of shame that first made her 
realize the man as her husband. He had dragged her into 
the mire, and though her whole soul revolted she felt with a 
sinking despair that she could never be clean again. She 
was bound to him for better for worse, and nothing could 
ever set her free. She was, as it were, identified with him, 
and the evil of his nature must lie upon her like a taint. 
There could be no escape for her, loathe him as she might. 

She lay down at last sick at heart and full of a great bitter- 
ness. Life was horrible, life was repulsive. Whichever 
way she turned some evil monster crouched across her 
path. 

Bunny was restless and querulous throughout the night. 
He was deeply hurt by Jake’s desertion, and, though he 
forebore to say so, he plainly regarded his sister as a very 
poor substitute. 

“ I shan’t get up till Jake comes to see me, ” he announced 
in the morning. 

And Maud went down to fetch his breakfast with a re- 
luctant promise to inform Jake of this intention if she saw 
him. 

She hoped very earnestly that she would not see him, but 
her hope was not to be fulfilled. Coming from the kitchen 
with Bunny’s breakfast-tray, she almost ran into him. He 
had evidently just entered the house, and was hanging up 
his cap on the rack that stood in the darkest corner of the 
passage. 


The Word Unspoken 203 

He stood back for her to pass him. ' ‘ Good morning ! ’ ' he 
said. 

Her face was burning. So great was her agitation for the 
moment that she thought she must drop the tray she held. 

Jake evidently thought so too, for he reached out and 
steadily took it from her. “ I’ll take up this, ” he said. ‘ ‘ I 
want to see the little chap. Do you mind going into the 
parlour? I shall be down directly. ” 

He spoke in his customary slightly sing-song drawl. She 
longed to refuse, but could not. With an inarticulate mur- 
mur she turned aside. 

In the parlour the fire burned brightly. She went and 
stood before it, striving desperately for composure. She 
would have given all she had to escape the coming interview. 
But she knew she could not, knew she must face it, listen 
to semi-humorous excuses, possibly a good-natured apology 
for an offence which she regarded as inexcusable, hideous. 

With all her strength she fought for self-control. She 
must make it clear to him, must somehow make him under- 
stand that this thing had raised up a barrier between them 
that could never be broken down, an immovable obstacle 
to all intimacy, a perpetual stumbling-block to friendship. 
He had brought it on himself and never — never — never 
could it now be otherwise. They had never been very near, 
but now they were as far asunder as the poles. No kindness 
from him could ever make her forget. 

She heard him descending the stairs, and braced herself 
with a throbbing heart to meet him. But she was trembling ^ 
in every limb. 

She did not turn to greet hmi as he entered, but kept her , 
face resolutely averted. 

He came in, closed the door with evident purpose, and 
drew near to her. She shrank at" his coming. A quick 
involuntary shudder went through her. She stiffened her- 
self instinctively. 


204 


The Hundredth Chance 


He spoke, in his voice a soft, half -wheedling note of re- 
monstrance. “Say, Maud, it ain’t— altogether— reason- 
able to condemn a man unheard.” 

Her breath came short. She would not look at him. 
With a quivering effort she spoke. “I don’t see any point 
in discussing the obvious. I am bound to believe the evi- 
dence of my own eyes. ” 

“Without doubt,” conceded Jake. “And they testified 
to my being screwed last night?” 

“You can’t — ^with truth — assert that you were sober,” 
she said. 

Jake did not make the assertion. He stood considering. 
After a moment: “ Do you object so strongly to the sight of 
me that you can’t bear to look at me?” he asked. 

His tone was faintly humorous. She resented it on the 
instant, hotly, almost fiercely. It was so exactly the atti- 
tude that she had anticipated. 

“ I do object — yes, ” she said, her voice low and vehement. 
“ I can’t think how you can have the effrontery to speak to 
me until I give you leave. ” 

“That so?” he said. 

There was insolence in his tone this time. She turned and 
faced him. Then she saw a large cross of strapping-plaster 
across his temple. She looked at it a moment ere defiantly 
she met his eyes. 

“I suppose you are going to make that your excuse,’^ 
she said. 

“ I was, ” said Jake imperturbably. 

She bit her lip. His utter lack of shame made her piti- 
less. “ If I hadn’t met you on the stairs last night, I might 
believe you,” she said. 

“You’re real kind,” he rejoined. “As a matter of fact 
I didn’t cut my head open tumbling upstairs, but I reckon 
that detail won’t interest you. You’ll think what you want 
to think, whatever I say. And p’raps, as you say, there’s 


The Word Unspoken 205 

not much point in discussing the obvious. Shall we have 
some breakfast?” 

His eyes shone with a mocking gleam into hers. She was 
sure he was laughing inwardly, though his mouth was grim. 

“I shall breakfast upstairs,” she said coldly. 

He made a slight movement that passed tmexplained. 
“Oh, I think not,” he said suavely. “It won’t hurt you 
any to sit at table with me. I am a very ordinary sinner, 
I assure you. ” 

Something in his tone made her flinch. The colour went 
out of her face. She turned without a word to the table. 

They sat down, and he helped her to food, she knew not 
what. There followed a silence that she felt to be terrible, 
a silence through which it came to her for the first time in 
her experience that Jake was angry. She looked at him no 
longer, but she felt as if his eyes were upon her unceasingly. 

“What about coffee, Mrs. Bolton?” he said suddenly. 

She gave a great start. The coffee-um was in front of 
her. She proceeded to pour out for him, the cup clattering 
in the saucer she held. 

He did not move to take it; she rose, as if compelled, and 
carried it to him. 

As she set it down, his hand suddenly descended upon 
hers. He looked up into her face, faintly smiling. 

“Maud, my girl, don’t be such a fool!” he said “Can’t 
you see you’re making a mistake?” 

She froze in his grasp. “Don’t touch me, please!” she 
said. “You — I — see things from a different standpoint. 
It may seem a small matter to you, but to me— to me — ” 
She stopped. “ Let me go ! ” she said, with a nervous effort 
to free herself. 

But he held her still. ‘ ' Say, now, do you think you’re wise 
to treat me like this?” he said. “You’ve got to put up 
with me, remember. Wouldn’t it be to your own interest 
to give me the benefit of the doubt?” 


206 


The Hundredth Chance 


‘‘There is no doubt,** she said, speaking quickly, breath- 
lessly. “You haven’t tried to deny it. As to — to — putting 
up with you — ** the hand he held clenched convulsively — 
“I have a little self-respect ’* 

“Call it pride!** interjected Jake softly. 

She looked at him with eyes of burning revolt. “ Very 
well. Call it pride! And understand that if this shameful 
thing ever occurs again, neither Bunny nor I can stay with 
you any longer!** 

Quiveringly the words rushed out. He had goaded her 
into uttering an ultimatum that she had never contemplated 
addressing to him at the commencement of the interview 
and the moment that she had uttered it she knew that she 
had done wrong. The red-brown eyes uplifted to hers 
suddenly kindled. He looked at her with a fiery intensity 
that sent the blood to her heart in a wave of wild dismay. 

His hand closed like a steel spring upon her wrist. “So, 
you think you’ll make a fool of me!” he said, and in his 
voice there sounded a deep note that was like the menace 
of an angry beast. “All right, my girl! You just try it! 
You’ll find it an interesting experiment if a bit costly.” 

“Are you — coward enough — to threaten me?” she said, 
through panting lips. 

“Reckon you’ve done all the threatening this journey,” 
Jake rejoined, with a smile that made her shiver. “It 
wasn’t exactly a wise move on your part, but p’raps you’ll 
think better of it presently.” 

He let her go, with the words; and she went back to her 
place, outwardly calm, inwardly shaking. 

Jake proceeded with his breakfast in a silence so absorbed 
that it was almost as if he had forgotten her presence alto- 
gether. It was never a lengthy meal with him. He ate 
and drank with business-like rapidity, not noticing that she 
did neither. 

Finally he rose. “I shall come in presently to see if 


207 


The Word Unspoken 

Bunny wants to come down,*' he said. “But the little 
chap doesn’t look up to much this morning. He’ll have to 
take it easy.” 

Maud did not respond. She sat rigidly gazing towards 
the window. 

Jake stood a moment, waiting for her to turn, but she 
made no movement. He came quietly round to her, bent 
over her chair. 

“Say, Maud, you aren’t going to keep it up? That’s not 
like you. I’ll tell you all that happened last night if you’ll 
listen.” 

She made a slight gesture of distaste. Her face was white 
and cold as marble. “ I would rather not hear, thank you, ” 
she said, without looking at him. ‘ ‘ I would rather you went 
away.” 

Jake stood up. There was no longer any suggestion of 
anger or any other emotion about him. His eyes glittered 
like red quartz in the sun; but his brow was absolutely 
unruffled. 

“Well,” he said, in a very pronounced drawl, “I should 
have some breakfast if I were you, and see how I felt then. 
It’s wonderful what a difference breakfast makes.” 

He turned away with the words; she heard him go with 
relief. 

On the other side of the door was the red setter-. Chops. 
He pushed his way in with a passing smile at his master, 
who had conferred the freedom of the house upon him since 
Bunny’s advent, to Mrs. Lovelace’s prim disgust. 

Jake made no attempt to hinder his entrance. He knew 
that Chops possessed privileges of friendship denied to him- 
self. He closed the door upon him and departed. 

Chops, after a cursory glance round for Bunny, came to 
the feet of his mistress. He looked at her with soft, ques- 
tioning eyes, then, as she made no response, sat gravely down 
before her and rested his red, silken head upon her lap. 


208 


The Hundredth Chance 


She looked down at him then. Her hand went forth to 
caress. He snuggled closer, sensing trouble, and breathed 
wistful greetings through his nose. His eyes, clear brown 
and full of love, looked up to hers. 

The rigidity went out of her attitude. She bent suddenly 
over him and kissed him, touched by the honest devotion 
and sympathy of those eyes. By the simple method of 
offering all he had. Chops had managed to convey a little 
comfort to her soul. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE TOKEN 

** XXTHY wouldn’t you see me last night?” said Saltash. 

V V He sat on the corner of the table, swinging a care- 
less leg the while under quizzical brows he watched Maud ar- 
range a great bunch of violets in a bowl. The violets were 
straight from the Burchester frames, and he had ridden over 
to present them. 

Maud was plainly in a reticent mood. She had accepted 
the gift indeed, but with somewhat distant courtesy. 

“It was late,” she said. “And I was attending to 
Bunny.” 

“Bunny!” He echoed the name with half-mocking sur- 
prise. “Does he still engross the whole of your energies? 
I thought you would have been more occupied with Jake. ” 

She stiffened ever so slightly at his words. “I only saw 
him for a few moments, ” she said. 

“What! Didn’t he come to you to tie up his broken 
head?” said Saltash. “I nearly killed him, you know. 
But it was his own fault.” 

“ I am aware of that, ” Maud said coldly. 

“What!” ejaculated Saltash again. “Did he have the 
impertinence to tell you so?” 

She raised her eyes momentarily; they shone almost black. 
“He told me — nothing,” she said, her voice deep with a 
concentrated bitterness that made him stare. “ He was not 
in a condition to do so. ” 


14 


209 


210 


The Hundredth Chance 


Saltash continued to stare. “He was talkative enough 
when he left me, ” he remarked. 

Her eyes gazed full into his. “Why should you try to 
deceive me?“ she said. “Really, you needn’t take the 
trouble.” 

Comprehension dawned on his face. He laughed a little 
in an amused fashion as if to himself. “What! Wasn’t 
the rascal sober when he got back?” 

“ You know he was not, ” she said. 

“ I know he tumbled out of the car and cracked his head,” 
said Saltash. “I daresay he’d been celebrating the Mas- 
cot’s victory. They all do, you know. But, my dear 
girl, what of it? Don’t look so tragic! You’ll get used to 
it.” 

“Don’t!” Maud said suddenly in a voice that shook. 
“You make me — sick. ” 

She bent her face swiftly to the violets, and there was a 
silence. 

Saltash continued to swing his leg, his lips pursed to an 
inaudible whistle. Suddenly he spoke. “ Please remember 
that this is quite unofficial! I don’t want a row with 
Jake!” 

“You needn’t be afraid,” she said, putting the bowl of 
violets steadily from her. “No more will be said on the 
subject by either of us. ” 

‘ ‘ I’m not afraid. ” Saltash was looking’at her hard, with 
a certain curiosity. “But with my best friend tied to him 
for life, it wouldn’t — naturally — be to my interest to quarrel 
with him. ” 

She flashed him a sudden glance. “I think you had 
better not call me that, Charlie,” she said. 

He laughed carelessly. “ I’ll call you my dearest enemy, 
if you like. It would be almost as near the mark. ” 

She was silent. 

He bent suddenly towards her, the laugh gone from his 


The Token 


211 


face. Maud, ” he said, and there was a note of urgency 
in his voice, “you’re not wanting to throw me over?” 

She shook her head very slightly. “I can’t be on really 
intimate terms with you any more, ” she said. “You must 
see it’s impossible.” 

“No, I don’t, ” he said. “Why is it impossible?” 

She did not answer. 

“Come,” he said. “That’s unreasonable. What have 
I done to forfeit your friendship?” 

She leaned slowly back in her chair, and met his eyes. 
“I am quite willing to be friends,” she said. “But — now 
that I am married — you mustn’t try to flirt with me. I 
detest married women’s flirtations.” 

He made a wry grimace. “ My precious prude, you don’t 
even know the meaning of the word. Did you ever flirt 
with anyone in all your pure, sweet life ? The bare idea is 
ludicrous. ” 

Maud’s eyes held his with severity. “No, I never flirted 
with you, Charlie,” she said. “But I gave you privileges 
which I can never give again, which you must never again 
expect of me. Is that quite clear?” 

He stooped towards her, his hands upon her shoulders, 
his dark face deeply glowing. “0 Maud, the sincere!” he 
said, in a voice that vibrated with an odd intensity, half- 
fierce, half -feigned. “ Dare you look me in the face and tell 
me that in marrying you have not done violence to your 
soul?” 

She looked him in the face with absolute steadiness. “I 
have nothing whatever to tell you,” she said. 

He released as suddenly as he had taken her. “There is 
no need, ” he said. “I can read you like a book. I know 
that if I had been at hand when your mother brought you 
down here — as heaven knows I would have been if I had 
known — if I had guessed — you would have been ready 
enough to marry even me.” He stopped, and over his 


/ 


212 


The Hundredth Chance 


ugly, comic face there came a strangely tragic look. “You 
could have dictated your own terms too,” he said. “I’m 
not hard to please. ” 

“Charlie, hush!” Sharply she broke in upon him. 
“That is a forbidden subject. I told you definitely long 
ago that I could never marry you. You know as well as I 
do that it wouldn’t have answered. You would have tired 
very quickly of my prim ways — ^just as you did tire in the 
old days when you fancied you cared for me. I couldn’t 
have satisfied you. I am not the kind of woman you crave 
for.” 

“ No? ” He laughed whimsically. “Yet, you know, you 
are unjust to me — always were. I don’t know that you can 
help it, being what you are. But — if it had been my good 
luck to marry you — I would have been faithful to you. 
It’s in my bones to be faithful to one woman. However, 
since she is denied me — ” he snapped his fingers with an 
airy gesture — “je m' amuse autrement. By the way, are 
you coming up to lunch at the Castle on Sunday ? 

“ I ? ” She raised her brows momentarily. “ No, I don’t 
think so, ” she said. 

* ‘ What I Y ou won’t ? J ake’s coming. ’ ’ 

She lowered her eyes. “No, Charlie,” she said firmly. 
“ Bunny has had one of his bad attacks. He won’t be well 
enough for any excitement, and of course I couldn’t dream 
of leaving him. ” 

“How you do worship that boy!” said Saltash, with a 
touch of impatience. 

Maud was silent. 

“ Look here ! ” he said abruptly. “Why don’t you have a 
proper opinion for Bunny? I’ll lend you the wherewithal. 
I’m quite well off just now.” 

She looked up then with eyes of frank gratitude. 
“Charlie that’s more than kind of you! But as a matter 
of fact — Jake has the matter in hand. He knows an 


The Token 


213 


American surgeon — a very clever man — a Dr. Capper, who 
is coming to England soon. And he is going to get him to 
come and examine Bunny. He — it is really very good of 
Jake.’^ 

She spoke haltingly, with flushed cheeks. Saltash was 
watching her with critical eyes. 

“ Oh, so the worthy Jake has the matter in hand, has he? ’’ 
he said, as she paused. “Wise man! I suppose it is no 
part of his plans to be hampered with a helpless brother-in- 
law all his days.” 

She broke in upon him swiftly. “Charlie! That is 
ungenerous ! ” 

He laughed. “My dear girl, it is the obvious. Were I 
in Jake’s position, my first thought would be to relieve you 
of the all-engrossing care of Bunny. You don’t suppose he 
married you just to make a home for Bunny, do you?” 

She rose quickly and turned from him. “Why do you 
try to make things harder for me?” she said in a voice of 
passionate protest. 

Saltash remained seated, still swinging an idle leg. “On 
the contrary, I am anxious to make everything as pleasant 
as possible, ” he said. 

But there was a slightly malicious twist to his smile and 
his voice was suavely mocking, notwithstanding. 

Maud moved from him to the window and stood before it 
very still, with a queenly pose of bearing wholly unconscious, 
unapproachably aloof. 

He watched her for a space, an odd, dancing gleam in his 
strange eyes. At length, as she made no movement, he 
spoke again, not wholly lightly. 

“See here, Maud! As a proof of my goodness of heart 
where you are concerned, I am going to make you an offer. 
This doctor man will probably want to perform an operation 
on Bunny, and it couldn’t possibly take place here. So if it 
comes to that, will you let it be done at the Castle ? There’s 


214 


The Hundredth Chance 


room for an army of nurses there. The whole place is at 
your disposal — and Bunny’s. And I’ll undertake not to get 
in the way. Come, be friends with me ! You know I am as 
harmless as a dove in your sweet company. ” 

He stood up with the words, came impulsively to her, 
took her hand and, bending with a careless grace, kissed it. 

She started at his touch, seemed as it were to emerge 
from an evil dream. She met his laughing eyes, and smiled 
as though in spite of herself. 

“You are going to be friends with me, ” said Saltash, with 
pleased conviction. 

She left her hand in his. “If you don’t suggest — ^impos- 
sible things,’’ she said. 

He laughed carelessly, satisfied that he had scored a point. 
“Nonsense! Why should I? Is life so hard?” 

“I think it is,” she said sadly. 

“It’s only your point of view,” he said. “Don’t take 
things too seriously 1 And above all, stick to your friends 1” 

She looked at him very earnestly. “Will you be a true 
friend to me, Charlie?” 

He bent, pressing her hand to his heart. “None so true 
as H” he said. 

She caught back a sigh. “I want a friend — terribly,” 
she said. 

“Behold me!” said Saltash. 

r She drew her hand slowly from him. “But don’t make 
love to me!” she urged pleadingly. “Not even in jest! 
Let me trust you! Let me lean on you! Don’t — don’t 
trifle with me! I can’t bear it!” 

Her voice trembled suddenly. Her eyes filled with 
tears. 

Saltash made a quick gesture as if something had hurt 
him. “I am not always trifling when I jest,” he said. 
“ That is the mistake you always made. ” 

, Maud was silent, struggling for self-command. Yet 


The Token 


215 

after a moment she gave him her hand again in mute re- 
sponse to his protest. 

He took it, held it a moment or two, then let it go. 

“And you will consider my suggestion with regard to 
Bunny,” he said. 

She replied with an effort, “ Yes, I will consider it. ” 

“Good!” he said. “Talk it over with Jake! If he 
doesn’t view it reasonably, send him to me! But I think 
he will, you know. I think he will. ” 

He turned as if to go; but paused and after a moment 
turned back. With an air half-imperious, half-whimsical, 
he held out upon the palm of his hand the sapphire and dia- 
mond ring which till that moment he had worn. 

“As a token of the friendship between us,” he said, “will 
you take this back? No, don’t shake your head! It 
means nothing. But I wish you to have it, and — if ever 
the need should arise — the need of a friend, remember! — 
send it to me!” 

She looked at him with serious eyes. “Charlie, I would 
rather not. ” 

“It isn’t sentiment,” he said, with a quick lift of the 
brows. “ It is a token — just a token whereby you may test 
my friendship.” Then, as she still stood dubious: “Here, 
take it ! He is coming. ” 

He almost thrust it upon her, and wheeled round. She 
did not want to take it, but the thing was in her hand. Her 
fingers closed upon it almost mechanically as Jake opened 
the door, and as they did so she was conscious of a great 
flood of colour that rose and covered face and neck. She 
turned her pack to the light as one ashamed. 

Jake came in slowly, as if weary. 

Saltash greeted him with airy nonchalance. “Hullo, 
Bolton! I came round to enquire for you. How’s the 
broken crown?” 

Jake’s eyes regarded him, bright, unswervingly direct. 


2I6 


The Hundredth Chance 


“I reckon that was real kind of your lordship/’ he said. 
“I had it stitched this morning. I am sorry I omitted to 
send help along last night. ” 

Saltash laughed. “Oh, that’s all right. I hardly ex- 
pected it of you. As a matter of fact the car didn’t turn 
over as you supposed. I soon righted her. You were a 
bit damaged, eh?” 

Jake’s eyes were still upon him. There was something 
formidable in their straight survey. “So the car didn’t 
turn over,” he said, after a moment. 

“No. If you’d hung on a bit tighter, you wouldn’t have 
been pitched out. Old Harris brought you safe home, did 
he ? No further mishaps by the way ? ” 

“None,” said Jake. He advanced into the room, and 
stopped by the table. His riding-whip was in his hand. 
“I came home too dazed to give an intelligible account of 
myself, ” he said, speaking very deliberately, wholly without 
emotion. “My wife imagined that I was not sober. Will 
your lordship be good enough to convince her that she was 
mistaken?” 

“I?” said Saltash. 

“You, my lord.” Jake stood at the table, square and 
determined. “I was in your company. You can testify — 
if you will — that up to the time of the accident I was in a 
perfectly normal condition. Will you tell her so?” 

Saltash was facing him across the table. There was a 
queer look on his swarthy face, a grimace half -comic, half- 
dismayed. 

As Jake ended his curt appeal he shrugged and spoke. 
“You are putting me in a very embarrassing position. ” 

“I am sorry,” said Jake steadily. “But you are the 
only witness that I can call. ” 

“And why should she accept my testimony?” said Saltash. 
“Evidence given, so to speak, at the sword’s point, my good 
Bolton, is seldom worth having. Moreover, if she had seen 


The Token 


21 


my crazy driving last night she might have been disposed U 
doubt whether my own condition were above suspicion. ” 

“I see,” said Jake slowly. He still looked hard into 
Saltash’s face, and there was that in the look that quelled 
derision. “In that case, there is nothing more to be said. ” 

Saltash made him a slight bow that was not without a 
touch of hauteur. “I quite agree with you. It is an un- 
profitable subject. With Mrs. Bolton’s permission I will 
take my leave. ” 

He turned to her, took and pressed her hand, sent a 
sudden droll smile into her grave face, and walked to the 
door. 

Jake held it open for him, but very abruptly Saltash 
clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come along, man ! I’m 
going round the Stables. I’m sorry you’ve got a sore head, 
but I’m off to town this afternoon, so it’s now or never. By 
the way, we shall have to postpone the luncheon-party till 
a more convenient season. I’ve no doubt it’s all the same 
to you.” 

He had his way. Jake went with him, and Maud drew 
a breath of deep relief. She felt that another private inter- 
view with her husband just then would have been unen- 
durable. 

She sat down and leaned upon the table, feeling weak and 
unnerved. Not till several minutes had passed did she 
awake to the fact that she was holding Saltash’s ring — that 
old dear gift of his — tightly clasped within her quivering 
hands. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE VISITOR 

“ 1 DO hope as I don’t intrude, ” said Mrs. Wright, passing 

1 her handkerchief over her shining forehead. “ I didn’t 
mean to take the liberty of calling, Mrs. Bolton, but your 
husband met my Tom the other day, and something he let 
fall made me think p’raps you’d be finding it a bit lonely; 
so I thought I’d come up on the chance.” 

“It was very kind of you, ” Maud said. 

She sat with her visitor in the little dark front room in 
which Jake kept his business books, his whips, and all the 
paraphernalia of his calling. It was a bare, office-like 
apartment, and reeked horribly of Jake’s tobacco; but 
Bunny was lying in the parlour and he had strenuously set 
his face against admitting the worthy Mrs. Wright there. 

It was extremely cold, and Maud felt pinched and 
inhospitable. The grate was full of shavings, the whole 
place was cheerless and forlorn. It was a room that she 
scarcely ever entered, regarding it in fact more as Jake’s 
office than an alternative sitting-room. 

Mrs. Wright, however, stout, red, comfortable, did not 
feel the cold. She sat with her umbrella propped against 
her chair and regarded her stiff young hostess with much 
geniality on her homely face. 

“You do look like a princess in a cottage, my dear, if 
you’ll allow me .to say so,” she said. “And how are you 
getting 0x1? I hope Jake’s a good husband to you. I feel 

2I8 


The Visitor 


219 


sure he would be. He’s such an honest fellow. I often 
says to Tom, ‘ Give me a plain honest man like Jake Bolton, ’ 
I says; ‘he’s a man in a thousand.’ I’m sure you think 
so yourself, Mrs. Bolton.” 

Maud, not knowing quite what to say, replied with re- 
serve that she had no doubt he was. She was wondering 
if she could possibly offer Mrs. Wright tea in that dreadful 
little room of Jake’s and if she would ever get rid of her if 
she didn’t. 

Mrs. Wright, serenely unconscious of the troublous ques- 
tion vexing her soul, went comfortably on. “I’ve often 
thought that if it had pleased the Almighty to send me a 
daughter, Jake’s just the man I would have chosen for her. 
I like them eyes of his. They’re so straight. But mind 
you, I think he has a temper of his own. Mayhap you’ve 
never met with it yet?” 

She looked at Maud slyly out of merry little slits of eyes, 
and chuckled at the flush that rose in the girl’s face. 

“He certainly never loses it in my presence,” Maud said 
stiffly. 

Mrs. Wright’s chuckle became a laugh. “Lor’, my dear, 
you needn’t be shy with me. He worships you; now, don’t 
he ? I saw that the first time I laid eyes on you. That was 
when you was waiting for him to come and take you in to 
supper, and my Tom came first. I said to myself then, 
‘Ah, Jake, young man, it’s plain to see where your fancy 
lies.’ And I laughed to myself, ” said Mrs. Wright, still 
chuckling. “For I couldn’t help thinking he was ambitious 
to lift his eyes to a real lady. Not that in my opinion a 
man who is a man isn’t good enough for any woman, and 
I’m sure you think the same. And then, you know, he’s 
that fond of children, is Jake. The wonder to my mind 
is not that he’s married now, but that he stayed single so 
long.” 

“He is very fond of my young brother, ” Maud observed. 


220 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Ah! Is he now? The poor little lad is a cripple, isn’t 
he? Many’s the time I’ve watched you go by my shop- 
window. It’s the wool shop at the corner of East Street 
with one window that looks over the sea. I used to wish 
you’d drop in to buy something, my dear; but you never 
did. P’raps now you’ll manage to find your way round 
there some day.” 

“Thank you,” Maud said. “But I so seldom go any- 
where. My brother takes up all my time.” 

Mrs. Wright’s rubicund face took a look of disappoint- 
ment, but she still smiled; it was a face that lent itself to 
smiles. “It isn’t to be expected that he’d want to come, ” 
she said. “But I’d be very pleased to see you both any 
time. What a good sister you are to him, my dear 1 I hope 
as he appreciates you.” 

Maud’s heart smote her suddenly. She realized that 
she had been ungracious. “Thank you very much, Mrs. 
Wright,” she said, with more of cordiality than she had yet 
shown. “ I will try to run in some day.” 

Mrs. Wright looked enchanted on the instant. “My 
dear, I’d be delighted! Come any time of day, just when 
it suits you ! Tom and me, we live alone now. He’s such 
a good son. He keeps a hair-dresser’s saloon, you know, 
at the side of the shop. That’s how we come to know Mr. 
Bolton. He comes as regular as possible every third week 
to have his hair cut. Such a head of hair it is — hair such as 
a woman would give her eyes for. It’s to be hoped he’ll 
get a little daughter some day, as’ll take after him. Your 
eyes and his hair — wouldn’t she be a picture!” 

Maud’s geniality passed like a light extinguished. She 
became statuesque. “How soon the light goes!” she said, ’ 
with a glance towards the darkening window. 

“Yes; don’t it?” said Mrs. Wright. 

There fell a silence most unusual with Mrs. Wright, 
With an effort Maud dispelled it. 


The Visitor 


221 


‘*We are very much interested in the horses. You 
heard of the Mascot’s victory at Graydown?” 

Mrs. Wright came out of her silence, shook herself 
together, as it were, and smiled again. “Now, isn’t that 
nice for Jake? He’s that wrapped up in the animals, and 
to have you interested in ’em too ! Now I should be jealous 
of ’em if it was me!” 

It was at this point that Jake himself threw open the 
door and entered, stopping short within the room in surprise 
to find it occupied. ' 

Mrs. Wright laughed aloud. “There, now! You didn’t 
expect to find me in possession, did you? How de do, 
Jake? What’s happened to your head?” 

Jake advanced with extended hand. “ Hullo, it’s Mother 
Wright!” he said, and to Maud’s amazement stooped 
and kissed her. “If this isn’t a real pleasure! But what 
are you doing in here? My head made a bole in the road 
coming home from the races the other night, and it is still 
too sore a subject for discussion.” 

“Now — now, Jake!” protested Mrs. Wright. 

“Fact!” he assured her, with the candid smile that 
Maud had seen but little of late. “But now what are you 
doing in here, I want to know? This place is like a vault. 
Come along into the parlour and have some tea!” 

He had not so much as glanced at Maud; she' spoke 
suddenly, with nervous haste. “Bunny is in the parlour, 
Jake. He may be dozing.” 

“We’ll soon wake him up,” said Jake. 

He drew Mrs. Wright’s tightly-gloved hand through 
his arm and turned to the door. But she held him back, 
laughing. 

“Jake ! Jake ! You’ve forgotten something.” 

“What’s that?” said Jake. 

She told him amid many fat chuckles. “Why, you’ve 
kissed me, and you haven’t kissed your wife. Come, now. 


222 


The Hundredth Chance 


that’s not right, and you but just married. I know you’re 
wanting to, so don’t be shy! I’ve been a bride myself, 
and I know all about it.” 

She would have withdrawn her hand from Jake’s arm, 
but he would not suffer it. 

“No, no!” he said, with a careless laugh. “We don’t 
do our kissing in public. Guess it isn’t a genial enough 
atmosphere either. Come along. Mother ! You’ll perish in 
here.” 

He led her from the room, still without glancing in 
Maud’s direction, and drew her along the narrow passage 
to the door of the parlour. 

Maud followed with a stateliness that veiled a burning 
embarrassment . 

She listened for Bunny’s voice at the opening of the door, 
and instantly heard it raised in cracked remonstrance. 

“Here, I say! Don’t bring anyone in here! Oh, it’s 
you, Jake! I thought it was Maud. I thought ” 

His voice suddenly ended in what she felt to be the silence 
of disgust, and Jake’s accents very measured, very deter- 
mined, took up the tale. 

“This is my young brother-in-law, Mrs. Wright, Sir 
Bernard Brian, commonly called Bunny. Well, Bunny, 
my lad, I’ve brought you a visitor to tea.” 

Bunny growled an inarticulate response, and Mrs. 
Wright covered all deficiencies with her cheery chuckle. 

“So nice to see you so cosy and comfortable, my dear. I 
hope as I’m not intruding too much. Do you know, Jake, 
I don’t think I’d better stop to tea? It’s getting dark, 
and Tom’ll be wondering.” 

“Let him wonder!” said Jake. “I’ll see you home all in 
good time. You know you always have tea when you come 
to see me. It’s seldom enough you come too. Maud,” 
for the first time he addressed her directly, and in his 
voice was a new note of authority such as she had never 


The Visitor 


223 

heard before, ** order the tea, will you? We will have it at 
once." 

It was a distinct command. Maud’s delicate neck 
stiffened instinctively. She crossed the room in silence, 
and rang the bell. 

The summons was answered with unusual promptitude 
by Mrs. Lovelace, who entered with the supper-cloth on her 
arm and was greeted by the visitor with much joviality. 

“How is it I never see you round our way, Sarah? Have 
you quite forgotten your old friends?" 

“Not at all, Mrs. Wright, ma’am, " said Mrs. Lovelace, 
dexterously flinging her cloth over the table. “But I’ve 
been a bit busy, you see, what with one thing and another, 
and me time’s been occupied." 

“What on earth are you spreading that cloth for?" here 
broke in Bunny, in irritable astonishment. “We never 
have that for tea." 

Mrs. Lovelace looked at him with dignity and hitched one 
shoulder. “We always has a good spread when Mrs. 
Wright comes to see the master, ’’ she said, in a tone that 
conveyed a distinct reproof for ill-timed interference. 

Bunny subsided into sullen silence, and Mrs. Wright 
laughed again. “I remember as it always used to be a 
heavy tea," she said. “But I don’t suppose a young 
gentleman like you would know what such things mean. 
Now, I do hope you won’t put yourself out on my account, 
Mrs. Bolton. It’s true I’m not accustomed to drawing- 
room meals, never had tea on my lap in my life. But there, 
you might say as I haven’t got much lap left to have it on. 
Is that sardines you’ve got there, Sarah? Ah, you. always 
remember my pet weakness. Well, Jake, my dear, I 
haven’t congratulated you yet on your marriage. I hope 
it’s going to be a very prosperous one. I don’t doubt as 
you’ve got a wife to be proud of, and I hope you’ll pull 
together well and make each other happy and comfortable; 


224 


The Hundredth Chance 


and may you have your heart’s desire, Jake, which — if 
I know you properly — isn’t very far to seek!” 

“That’s real kind of you, Mother,” said Jake sombrely. 

He had seated himself near Bunny whose brows were 
drawn in an ominous scowl. 

In spite of the fire that roared up the chimney, the 
atmosphere was very far from being a genial one. Jake’s 
eyes, compellingly bright, were fixed upon Maud, who 
though burningly conscious of his regard refused persist- 
ently to raise her own. She was bitterly resentful of Jake’s 
attitude. It placed her in an intolerable position from 
which she felt herself powerless to break free. She had no 
desire to treat this impossible old woman churlishly, but 
somehow Jake forced her to a more acute realization of 
the great gulf that stretched between them. She could 
not even pretend to be cordial in his presence. She sat 
tongue-tied. Mrs. Wright, however, chatted on with the 
utmost complacence. She was plainly quite at her ease 
with Jake and she kept the conversation going without an 
effort, despite Maud’s obvious embarrassment and Bunny’s 
evident impatience. 

She made a hearty meal, urged on by Jake who presently 
bestowed the whole of his attention upon her, seeming to 
dismiss his wife and brother-in-law from his mind. 

“I really must be going,” she declared at length, having 
detailed all the local gossip she could think of for his delecta- 
tion. “You shouldn’t encourage me so, Jake. I’m sure 
you’ll all be tired out.” 

“I reckon you’re just the most welcome visitor that ever 
darkensj^ my doors,” said Jake, rising with her. “Now, 
you’re not to hurry. I’m going to tell them to put the horse 
in.” 

“No, no, Jake, my dear, don’t you! I’d sooner walk. 
I would indeed. It does me good, and it’s too cold to-night 
for driving. No, and I’m not going to let you see me home 


The Visitor 


225 

either. I’d know the way blindfold, and Fm not that 
nervous. Oh, there now! What’s this?” 

Mrs. Lovelace had just thrown open the door with some 
pomp. She entered, bearing an enormous bunch of vio- 
lets which she proceeded to present to Maud with the 
ceremonious announcement: ‘‘Lord Saltash’s compliments, 
ma’am, and will you do him the honour to accept these?” 

“Oh my! How lovely!” cried Mrs. Wright. 

Maud said nothing. She took the violets and held them 
up to her face. 

Jake glanced at her momentarily, and thence to Mrs. 
Lovelace who had come forward to help Mrs. Wright into 
her cloak. 

“Is Lord Saltash at the door?” he asked. 

Mrs. Lovelace gave a start, as if something in the query 
surprised her. “No sir, the flowers was brought by a 
groom, ” she said. 

Jake said no more, but something in his silence sent the 
ever-ready colour flooding Maud’s face and neck. She 
bent a little lower over the violets, saying no word. 

Mrs. Wright came cliunsily into the breach. “But 
aren’t they lovely, to be sure? Never did I see such 
beauties. And the scent of ’em, why, the room is full of 
it! Isn’t that kind of Lord Saltash now?” 

“They have a great quantity at the Castle, ’’Maud 
said in muffled tones. 

She held the flowers for Mrs. Wright to smell, and at 
the same moment Jake reached forth and took them from 
her outstretched hand. 

“You take ’em if you like ’em. Mother. We get.jnore of 
’em than we want,” he said, in leisurely tones, and thrust 
the bouquet forthwith into her astonished grasp. 

“Oh, my dear!” cried Mrs. Wright, between dismay and 
delight. “But — but they was a present to Mrs. Bolton. 
I couldn’t really! No, that I couldn’t!” 


226 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Take ’em!” Jake said. He was smiling a smile of 
deadly determination and his leisurely utterance held 
something of a fateful quality that induced Mrs. Wright 
to hush her remonstrances and turn appealingly to 
Maud. 

The latter was standing erect and still with eyes of burn- 
ing blue fixed steadily upon emptiness. She made no 
response whatever to her visitor’s unspoken appeal, it 
seemed that she did not even see it. 

“It’s all right, Mother,” smiled Jake. “You take ’em 
home and enjoy ’em. As a matter of fact, Maud and I are 
getting a bit fed up with ’em ourselves. Yes, I’m going 
to see you home. I’d rather.” 

“And I’d rather not, Jake,” Mrs. Wright asserted with 
sudden decision. An odd expression of sternness had come 
into her jolly countenance. It sat very strangely there. 
She came close to Maud, and as the girl extended a stiff 
hand in farewell she took it and pressed the flowers into it. 
“They’re not Jake’s to give, ” she said, “and I’m not going 
to deprive you of ’em. Thank you kindly for a very good 
tea, Mrs. Bolton, my dear. And now I’ll wish you good- 
bye. If there’s ever anything as I can do for you, you 
must let me know.” 

The words, the tone, were full of kindly comprehension, a 
sympathy too subtle for outward expression. Maud looked 
into eyes of shining friendliness, and as if a sudden shaft of 
sunlight had caught her heart, her bitterness melted into 
something that was near akin to gratitude. 

She held up the violets with a smile. “ Wait a moment ! ” 
she said. “ I would like you to have some of them.” 

She untied them with the words, divided the great bunch, 
and gave back a generous half into Mrs. Wright’s plump 
hand. 

“Now, that’s very good of you, dear,” said Mrs. Wright. 
“ I shall just treasiure them violets. They’ll make me think 


The Visitor 


227 

of you whenever I look at ’em. They’re just the colour of 
your eyes. Good-bye, and thank you most kindly.” 

It was then that Maud did a thing that amazed herself, 
impelled thereto by that subtle sympathy which she had 
so little expected to meet. She bent her stately neck and 
kissed the red, smiling face uplifted in such honest admira- 
tion to hers. “Good-bye, Mrs. Wright,” she said. “And 
thank you for coming. I shall try to come and see you 
one day — when I can make time.” 

“Any time, dear, any time!” beamed Mrs. Wright. 
“Drop in just whenever you feel inclined! I’m most 
always there.” She gave her a hearty hug with the words, 
and then, as if afraid that this demonstration had been too 
ardent, she turned and trotted to the door. 

“ Good-bye, Jake ! Good-bye ! There, now, I’ve forgotten 
Sir Brian. You must excuse me for being so stupid.” 

“Oh, don’t trouble!” said Bunny, with ironical courtesy. 
“Pray don’t come back on my account!” 

She looked back at him from the threshold, a very 
motherly compassion on her jolly face. 

“Poor little lad!” she murmured pityingly. “How 
sadly he looks, to be sure! Good-bye, then. Sir Brian ! I 
won’t come back. Now, Jake, I’ll let you see me to the 
door-step — no further. The moon’s up, and Tom’ll be 
sure to come and meet me.” She started down the passage 
with Jake behind her, her voice dwindling as she went. “I’m 
so glad as I’ve seen your princess, Jake. I think she’s lovely. 
Mind you’re very good to her! -She’s high born, you 
know, Jake, my boy; better-class than you and me. I 
never see anyone so proud and so dainty. You be kind 
to her, my lad, anc^see you treat her like the lady she is!” 

Jake’s reply, if he made one, was inaudible. 

“Common old hag!” growled Bunny from his sofa. 

Maud said nothing at all. Her face was hidden in her 
violets, and she was as one who heard not. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


HER OTHER SELF 

I T was on an afternoon in mid- January that Maud found 
herself for the first time in the precincts of Burchester 
Castle. She had heard nothing of Lord Saltash since his 
departure for town, though gifts of flowers arrived at regular 
intervals from his hot-houses; and it seemed that his ab- 
sence was to be indefinitely prolonged. She almost hoped 
that it would be so, for though he was practically her only 
friend his presence was not an unalloyed pleasure. She 
felt more at ease when he was away. 

On this particular afternoon she had left Bunny wrapped 
up in his long chair and lying in the summer-house that 
overlooked the field where Jake was occupied in breaking 
in a wild young colt. The day was fine and unusually 
warm. Bunny was in a contented mood and, since Jake 
was close at hand, she did not see why she should not leave 
him for a space. He had been needing her less and less 
of late, and though his behaviour towards herself had un- 
doubtedly undergone a considerable improvement, it was 
becoming very evident to her that he vastly preferred Jake’s 
masculine companionship to her own. He was in fact 
so devoted to Jake that he would endure correction from 
him without a murmur, a state of affairs that Maud vaguely 
resented, without knowing why. They were such close al- 
lies that she often felt herself to be superfluous. Neither 
by day nor by night was her presence any longer essential. 
' She knew that she ought not to regret this, for it meant 
228 


Her Other Self 


229 


that Bunny’s health was very materially improving; but 
yet at the heart of her there often came a pang. She missed 
his dependence upon her with a poignancy that was very 
hard to bear. 

And so for the first time that afternoon she decided to avail 
herself of Lord Saltash’s permission to use the piano at the 
Castle.. She had an intense love of music and a natural gift 
for it which she had never been able to develop very freely. 

Charlie was musical too. Some of her happiest hours had 
been spent at the piano with him in the old days. He was 
an accomplished musician himself, and he had given her 
many a lesson and valuable hint. She sometimes thought 
that it was over the piano that her heart had first gone out 
to his. 

She did not want to recall those happy times they had 
had together. They lay far behind her with her buried 
youth. But the longing to make music was strong upon 
her. It had risen out of her loneliness like a fiery thirst 
in the desert, and she yearned to gratify it. 

And after all why should she not? Charlie was away. 
There was no one to know or care how she spent her time. 
It was obviously and unquestionably her own. 

Jake had wholly ceased to take any interest in her doings. 
He treated her as the most casual acquaintance. When he 
greeted her, he never so much as touched her hand. He was 
everything to Bunny, he was nothing to her; and every 
day it seemed to her that he drew a little further away from 
her. She had tried to make overtures more than once, 
but he never seemed to understand. He would look at her 
in his straight, impenetrable way, and pass deliberately 
on to some other matter, whether with intention or not 
she could never wholly decide. He had never tried to be 
kind to her since the day that she had refused to hear his 
proffered explanation. 

A great bitterness was growing up within her. She felt as 


230 


The Hundredth Chance 


if he had deprived her of all she cared for, and given her 
nothing in return. It was in part this bitterness of spirit 
that drove her to Burchester Castle that day, and, added 
thereto, an intense and feverish desire to escape if only for 
an hour from the atmosphere of her daily existence. She 
felt as if it were crushing out her individuality, and she 
longed desperately to be herself, her best and happiest 
self, if only for an hour. 

So, with no word to any but Bunny of her intention, she 
passed up the long fir avenue to the Castle with the winter 
sun sinking red behind her. 

The great stone building frowned upon her as she drew 
near. She approached it with a certain awe. The dark 
windows seemed to gaze at her. The massive entrance 
yawned to receive her. 

She stepped into the echoing Gothic porch, and found 
herself confronted by a massive oak door. The electric 
bell at the side of this, however, was reassuring, and she rang 
it without hesitation. 

While she waited for the door to open she amused herself 
by examining the gargoyles that surmounted the pillars 
of the porch,— jeering, demon faces that made her shiver. 
There was about the place an ecclesiastical dignity at which 
those faces seemed to mock. The thought of Saltash went 
through her. Saltash in a derisive mood was strikingly 
like one of these. 

The door opened with noiseless state, and an ancient 
man-servant stood before her. He looked at her with grave 
enquiry, and with a touch of nervousness she explained her 
presence. 

'‘I am Mrs. Bolton. Lord Saltash is away, I know; but 
he has given me permission to use his piano. I thought I 
should like to do so this afternoon.” 

The old man stood back and bowed before her. “Come 
in, madam!” he said. 


Her Other Self 


231 


She entered with a curious sensation of unreality, and 
found herself in an immense stone hall, carpeted with rich 
Persian rugs, and splendidly warmed by a great fire that 
roared in an open fireplace. The sense of ecclesiastical 
austerity completely vanished as soon as the door closed 
behind her. The whole atmosphere became luxurious, 
sensuous. Eastern. There were some wonderful pieces of 
statuary, some in marble and some in bronze, placed here 
and there, that were of anything but monastical design. 
One in particular in a niche in the stone wall caught Maud’s 
eyes as she followed her guide — a nude, female figure with 
wings, one of which was spread like an eagle’s pinion as 
though to soar, while the other trailed back, broken, 
drooping, powerless. It was a wonderful marble, and she 
paused before it almost involuntarily. The arms of the 
figure were outstretched and straining upwards, the head 
flung back, and in the face such anguish, such longing, 
such passionate protest as thrilled her through and through. 

The old butler paused also. “That,” he said in his 
decorous monotone, “is Spentoli’s Fallen Woman. His 
lordship prefers to call it The Captured Angel. A very 
valuable piece of sculptury, I believe, madam. Quite one 
of the features of the place. His lordship sets great store 
by it, and it is universally admired by all visitors.” 

“It is wonderful,” Maud said. But yet she turned her 
eyes away almost immediately. There was something 
about that mute, agonized figure of womanhood that she 
felt she could not bear to look upon except in solitude. 

The butler stumped on down the great hall, and she 
followed, to a grand oak staircase that divided into two 
half-way up and led to a panelled gallery that ran along 
three sides of the hall. Solemnly they mounted. A high 
oak door confronted them at the top which the old man 
threw open with much ceremony. 

“The grand piano, madam, is over by the west window, ” 


232 


The Hundredth Chance 


he said, and with another deep bow withdrew, closing the 
door without sound behind her. 

Maud went forward into the room. The first impression 
she received was of great loftiness. It was a huge apart- 
ment, oak-panelled, and with a floor of polished oak. The 
whole of one side of the room was lighted by south windows 
that looked out over terraced gardens to the pine-woods of 
the park. At the end was a turret in the western angle of 
the wall, and here stood the piano, full in the glow of the 
sinking sun. There were two fireplaces in the room, and 
in the one nearer to the piano a red still fire was burning. 
A low couch stood before it, and a great tiger-skin — the 
only rug in the whole vast place — was spread on the hearth. 
There were other couches and strangely-shaped divans 
in the room, but no chairs, and only one small table. The 
whole effect was spacious and Eastern, curiously attractive 
to the senses and yet curiously elusive. 

Maud went over the uncovered floor, treading lightly, 
with a feeling of having entered an enchanted land, — a feel- 
ing not wholly pleasant of being caught in a fairy web of 
subtleties from which she might not find it easy to escape. 

The whole atmosphere breathed of Saltash. She was sure 
that he had designed every elusive detail. 

The piano was thrown invitingly open. A French song 
was on the rack. It had the appearance of having been 
placed there but a moment before. A sudden doubt 
assailed her, a sensation as of having walked unwittingly 
into a trap. Some force had drawn her hither, some mag- 
netism had surely been at work. 

The impulse came to her then to turn and go, yet she 
resisted it. Later, it seemed to her that she had lacked 
the motive power to do aught but move straight to the 
piano and drop onto the music-stool before the keys. Her 
hands went out to them, and suddenly she was playing, 
at first very softly, then with gathering tone as she felt the 


Her Other Self 


233 


instrument respond to her touch, till at length all sense 
of strangeness left her, and she began to sing the little 
French ditty that once had been one of her favourites! 
She had never heard her own voice to greater advantage 
than in that lofty music-room. It was a mezzo, sweet 
rather than powerful, with a ringing, bell-like quality that 
Charlie , had been wont to compare to the tentative notes 
of a bullfinch. He had always declared that she was 
afraid of the sound of it, but this was certainly not the 
case to-day. The glad notes left her lips, true and free 
and birdlike. The heart within her had suddenly grown 
light. 

The song came to an end. Her fingers began to wander 
idly over the keys. She played a dreamy air with an old- 
world waltz refrain, too lost in her trance of delight to 
realize what she played, and again half-unconsciously she 
was singing, as she had sung long ago before the gates of 
youth. 


“There has fall'n a splendid tear. 

From the passion flower at the gate, 

She is coming, my dove, my dear; 

She is coming, my life, my fate. 

The red rose cries,' She is near, she is near'; 

And the white rose weeps, 'She is late'; 

The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear'; 

And the lily whispers, 'I wait."' 

Softly, sweetly, the notes stole through the room, wandered 
awhile, and ceased. There fell a pause, and the girl’s eyes 
rested dreaming oti the long dark line of pine-trees red- 
flushed in the glow of sunset. 

Then, still following her dream, she sang on. 

“She is coming, my own, my sweet, 

Were it ever so airy a tread 
My heart would hear her and beat 


234 


The Hundredth Chance 


Were it earth in an earthy bed; 

My dust would hear her and beat, 

Had I lain for a century dead; 

Would start and tremble under her feet, 

And blossom in purple and red.” 

And then she was singing the refrain, and while she sang 
it she awoke. 


‘‘Come into the garden, Maud, 

For the black bat night has flown; 

Come into the garden, Maud, 

I am here at the gate alone, 

I am here at the gate alone.” 

She stopped suddenly with the conviction that a man’s 
voice had joined hers in the singing of that refrain. Yet, 
if this had been so, the accompanying voice ceased as 
abruptly as her own. She found herself sitting in absolute 
silence, with every pulse racing, every nerve strained to 
listen. 

No sound came to her. The whole great chamber was 
as still as death. The fire burned red and silent. There 
was not so much as the ticking of a clock to be heard. 
And yet it seemed to her that eyes watched her from some 
vantage point unseen. She had a firm conviction that she 
was not alone. 

She controlled the curious excitement that possessed 
her, and slowly set her fingers once more on the keys. She 
played the old refrain again, singing it very softly, listening 
intently while she sang. This time she was sure — quite 
sure — that a man’s voice hummed the air. She went on 
to the end, and suffered her hands to fall. 

Charlie!” she said, without turning. 

There came a slight sound behind her, the click as of a 
spring catch. She looked round, and saw him standing 
against the high panelling of the wall. 


Her Other Self 


235 

“What a childish game to play!** she said, with lips that 
slightly trembled. 

“We are all children,** observed Saltash. “We may 
think ourselves mighty clever, but the fact remains. Greet- 
ing, my queen rose! I am enchanted to see you.** 

He came forward, his black brows working comically, 
his queer ugly face smiling a welcome. 

In spite of herself, Maud smiled in answer. “But why 
did you pretend you weren’t at home?** she said, in a voice 
of protest. 

He laughed as he took her hand. “But I wasn’t,*’ he 
said. “I motored down on purpose to receive you. Are 
you so disappointed?” 

She shook her head, but she still looked at him somewhat 
dubiously. “You know, Charlie,” she said, “I like people 
to behave quite straightforwardly, and to tell the truth.” 

“Heavens above!” laughed Saltash. “Why so griev- 
ously moral? Well, look here, let me be quite, quite honest, 
and admit that it was wholly by chance that I came down 
here to-day. Chance or the beneficent will of the gods! 
Call it what you will! And, my dear girl, don’t be prudish 
now you are married! Remember, that though it is a state 
of bondage there are certain liberties attached that are well 
worth having. Now, you are going to play and sing to me 
while I smoke and admire.” 

He turned from her and threw himself upon a low settee 
in the window embrasure. The scent of his cigarette came 
to her, aromatic. Eastern, fragrant of many subtleties. 
She breathed it as one who inhales the magic of the gods. 

“Now, play!” he commanded, his strange, restless eyes 
upon her. “Play as the spirit moves you! Never mind 
me! I am of no account.” 

She had done it often before in the old days. It was not 
difficult to do it now, with the spell of his personality upon 
her. Her own spirit responded instinctively to the call of 


236 


The Hundredth Chance 


his. The sympathy between them became communion. 
She began to play, and, playing, lost herself in the music 
as one inspired. 

Saltash lay without moving, as if half-asleep. He also 
seemed as one under a charm. 

And Maud played on and on, seeing visions, steeping her 
soul in romance, forgetful wholly of the chain by which 
she was bound; forgetful also of her companion, or perhaps 
so merged in his individuality as to be unaware of any divid- 
ing line. It' was the old, sweet dreamland that had always 
held them both. 

Time passed, and the red sun with it. The early dark 
began to fall, the shining visions to wane. She came out of 
her trance at last with a deep sigh, and suffered her hands 
to fall. 

Instantly Saltash sat up. “ Bravo, ma belle reine ! Y our 
touch is like velvet to the senses. You have scarcely sung 
to me at all. But no matter! You have closed the gates 
now, and we can’t go back. But wasn’t it good? Come, 
be honest and say so.” 

She lifted her eyes to his with something of her dream 
still lingering there. “ It was — Very good, ” she said. 

“And you’ll come again?” he insinuated. 

The dream began to fade. With her right hand she 
picked out a nervous little air on the piano, saying no word. 

He leaned towards her. “Maud,” he insisted, “surely 
you’ll come again!” 

“ I don’t know, ” she said slowly. 

“Surely!” he said again. 

Her eyes grew troubled. “ Charlie, ” she said, her fingers 
still softly pressing the keys, “I can’t come here when 
you are here. I like to come, — oh yes, I like to come. But 
I mustn’t.” 

‘ ‘ Why not ? ” said Saltash. * * Afraid of the cow-puncher ? ” 

She shrank, and struck a sudden discordant chord. “I 


Her Other Self 


237 


am not afraid of anyone, but I must think of appearances. 
I owe it to myself. I should like to come sometimes and 
play. But — with you here — I can’t.” 

All right, ” he said abruptly. “I’ll go.” 

Her eyes flashed up to his. She took her hand from the 
piano and gave it to him. “You are going to be a true 
friend to me, Charlie,” she said. 

He smiled rather wryly. “My friendship is to take a 
somewhat negative form, it seems to me, but perhaps it 
will stand the strain. Have you heard anything yet about 
the American doctor?” 

She shook her head. “No, nothing.” 

“And you have not laid my proposal before Jake, I 
gather?” he pursued, boldly keeping her hand in his. 

“Not yet,’’ she said. 

“Have you given the matter your own august considera- 
tion?” he asked. 

Her hand began to fidget for freedom. “I have thought 
about it, Charlie. I have not quite made up my mind. 
But you mustn’t be hurt if I say No.” 

“I shan’t be hurt,” he said, slowly relaxing his hold so 
that her hand slipped free. “But I shall think that your 
love of propriety somewhat outweighs your love for Bunny.” 

She flushed, and turned aside to take up her gloves in 
silence. 

He stood and watched her. “That is so like you,” he 
said, after a moment. 

She glanced at him. “What do you mean?’' 

He laughed lightly, but without mockery. “Your 
stately silences! Do you know I remember you best by 
your silences? It is there that you differ from all the rest 
of your charming sex. Other women, when they are 
misjudged, clamour for redress. You endure in silence, too 
proud to complain. I wonder if Jake has realized your 
silences yet.” 


238 


The Hundredth Chance 


Maud stiffened a little. “I must be going,” she said. 
“I promised Bunny I would be back to tea.” 

”I’ll walk back with you,” Saltash said. 

She shook her head. “No, I would rather go alone.” 

“Why don’t you tackle the situation boldly and ask me 
to tea?” he said. 

She was walking down the long room, and he sauntered 
beside her, smoking a cigarette, careless and debonair. 

“I think it wiser not, Charlie,” she said. 

He laughed. “As you will. But remember, life is 
short. We may as well enjoy ourselves, while it lasts. 
Did old Billings show you up here? He is the one respect- 
able feature of this establishment.” 

“Yes, he certainly is respectable,” she agreed, with a smile. 
“But where were you when I came in? You didn’t come 
through this door.” 

He laughed again in a fashion half-mocking, half-secre- 
tive. “That is my affair, ma belle reine. Some day I 
may show you — several things; but that day has not 
dawned yet.” 

He threw open the door, and they found the great hall 
below them ablaze with electric light. “I suppose I may 
accompany you downstairs,” he observed. 

“What a wonderful place it is!” Maud said. 

Her eyes went almost involuntarily to the statue that had 
arrested her attention on entering. It shone from its niche 
with a white splendour that seemed to give forth light. 

“My Captured Angel has the place of honour by night 
and by day,” said Saltash. “I have been wanting you to 
see her, or perhaps it would be more correct to say, I have 
been wanting to see you together. Have you ever met your 
other self before?” 

“My other self?” She looked at him interrogatively. 

He made her a quizzical bow. “Have you never seen 
that face before?” 


Her Other Self 


239 


She descended the stairs, and approached the statue. 
They stood together before it. She had desired to see it in 
solitude before, but with Salt ash by her side that desire 
had left her. They viewed it from the same standpoint, 
in that subtle communion of spirit that had always char- 
acterized their intercourse. 

And she saw — as he saw — her own features carved in the 
marble, piteous, tragic, alive. 

“Poor Captured AngelV murmured Saltash softly. “So 
fair of face, so sad of soul ! ” 

She did not respond. She felt as if in that recognition 
something had pierced her heart. It was like a revelation 
of things to come. So for awhile she stood, gazing upon 
that tragic figure of broken womanhood; and finally in 
silence turned away. 

He went with her to the door, but he did not offer a 
second time to accompany her farther. On the threshold 
she gave him her hand in farewell. 

“You will come again?” he said. 

■/She met his strange, unstable eyes for a moment and 
fancied that they pleaded with her. 

“Not to see you, Charlie,” she said, and was conscious 
in a vaguely troubled way that the words cost her an 
effort. 

His eyes flashed her a laugh. “No, not to see me,” he 
said lightly. “Of course not. Just for your own enjoy- 
ment. You will enjoy that piano, you know. And you 
can have it all to yourself.” 

She smiled in spite of herself even against her will. 
“Very well,” she said. “I will come again some day. 
And thank you very much.” 

“Oh, don’t do that!” he protested. “It spoils every- 
thing.” 

She released her hand, and turned from him, still smiling. 
“Good-bye!” she said. 


240 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Farewell, Queen of the roses!” he made light re- 
sponse. 

She passed through the wide stone porch and out into the 
dark of the winter evening. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE RISING CURRENT 

I T was very dark along the avenue of pine-trees, darker 
than she had anticipated. She almost wished that she 
had allowed Saltash to accompany her. She went as quickly 
as she dared in the gloom, conscious that it was growing 
late. The road wound considerably, and she could not see 
the lamp at the gates. Overhead a rising wind moaned 
desolately through the pines. They swayed and creaked 
as though whispering together. Very soon the lights of the 
Castle were obscured behind her, and she was in almost 
total darkness. 

She pressed on with an uneasy suspicion that it must 
be later than she had thought. Doubtless Jake had 
wheeled Bunny back to the house long before. Bunny knew 
whither she had gone, so they would not be anxious about 
her; but they would wonder why she was so late. The 
afternoon had fled away like a dream. 

She began to quicken her steps somewhat recklessly, but 
the road curved more abruptly than she realized, and she 
presently ran into the grassy bank, nearly falling into the 
outstretched arms of a fir-tree. She recovered herself 
sharply with a gasp of dismay, and paused to try to discern 
more clearly the winding of the way. It was at this point 
that there came to her the sound of advancing footsteps. 
Someone was approaching with a slow, purposeful stride 
that suddenly sent the blood to her heart in a quick wave 
i6 241 


242 


The Hundredth Chance 


of something that was almost apprehension. She stood 
quite still and waited. 

Nearer and nearer came the leisurely tread. Instinct, 
blind and unreasoning, prompted her to draw back into the 
shielding recesses of the tree with a desperate desire to 
escape notice. It was a footfall that she had come to know, 
and — why she could not have said — she did not want to 
meet Jake at that moment. With a very curious dread at 
her heart she stood and waited. 

He came to within a couple of yards of her, and stopped. 
*'You can come out,” he remarked dryly. '‘It's just you 
I’ve come along to fetch.” 

His voice was perfectly quiet and natural, but there was 
that in the words that fired within her a burning indigna- 
tion. She came forward and faced him in the gloom. 

“Why should you take that trouble?” she said. 

She saw his eyes glitter in the darkness, and knew that 
they were upon her with a lynx-like intensity. “ I reckon I 
have the right,” he said, in his slow way. “You’ve no 
objection, I presume?” 

Her cheeks burned hotly in the darkness. She knew 
that he had her at a disadvantage. “I am fully capable 
of taking care of myself,” she said, beginning to walk on 
down the dim avenue. 

He fell into his easy stride beside her. “Is that why 
Lord Saltash left you to walk home alone?” he said. 

She clenched her hands in the darkness. “What do you 
mean?” 

“I think I am right in concluding that you have spent 
the afternoon with him,” Jake said, in his measured 
tones. 

Maud stood suddenly still. She was quivering from head 
to foot. “You are — quite right,” she said, in a voice 
that she strove in vain to steady. “I think I have told 
you before, Lord Saltash and I are old friends.” 


The Rising Current 


243 


**Yes, I am aware of that,” Jake said. 

He reached out a quiet hand and took her by the arm, 
leading her calmly forward. 

She went with him because she could not do otherwise, 
but she would have given all she had at that moment to 
wrench herself free. There was no escape for her, however; 
she was forced to endure his touch, forced to go forward 
with him along a road that she could not see. 

He led her in silence, calmly, unfalteringly, with the 
utmost confidence. She was sure that those lynx-eyes of 
his could see in the dark. 

But his silence speedily became intolerable. It seemed 
to her to bristle with condemnation. It goaded her against 
her will into speech. 

“Lord Saltash has given me his permission to use the 
piano at the Castle. I did not know when I went that he 
had returned.” 

“ I could have told you that, ” commented Jake. 

Again her resentment rose to a flame, burning fiercely. 
Yet his words held no insult. With all her strength she 
strove for calmness. 

“I did not know of it. In any case, I do not see that 
it was a matter of very vital importance. An hour at the 
piano is a great treat to me, and I shall probably go again.” 

“For an hour?” said Jake. 

This time the peculiar intonation of his voice was un- 
mistakable, not to be ignored. She flung him instant 
defiance. 

“ For as long as I choose. My time is my own.” 

He was silent a moment, but she was conscious of the 
tightening of his hand. At length : “ All right, my girl, ” he 
said. “But remember, my claim to it comes before Lord 
Saltash’s. Some day it may happen that I shall put in 
my claim. I never have been content to be passed at the 
winning-post.” 


244 


The Hundredth Chance 


Her heart quivered at the deliberate purpose with which 
he spoke. She walked on, saying no word. 

They were nearing the gates, and the glare from the two 
great lamps shone towards them, lighting the way. She 
braced herself, and made a resolute attempt to free her 
arm from his hold. 

“Easy! Easy!” said Jake. “We haven’t got there yet. 
It’s dark beyond those lights.” 

She abandoned her effort, feeling that she had no 
choice. They walked on together silently. 

They reached and passed through the gates. The road 
stretched before them steep and winding. 

“We’ll cut across the fields,” said Jake. 

He led her to a stile almost concealed in the hedge, and 
here his hold upon her relaxed. He vaulted the rail, and 
waited for her. 

He did not offer to assist her though the step was high. 
She mounted in nervous haste to avoid his touch. 

But for the darkness she would have found no difiiculty 
in springing down, but as it was she misjudged the distance, 
slipped, and fell. She threw out her hands with a cry, 
and the next moment she was caught in Jake’s arms. He 
held her fast, so fast that for a few palpitating seconds she 
felt the hard beating of his heart against her own. Then, 
in response to her desperate efforts for freedom, he let her 
go, without excuse, without apology, in a deep-breathing 
silence that somehow appalled her. They walked side by 
side along the field-path, saying no word. 

There was a gate at the further end that led into the 
training-field below the little orehard. As they reached 
this, Jake paused very deliberately and spoke. 

“I reckon I’ve got to prepare you for a visitor.” 

“A visitor!” She stopped in swift dread of she knew 
not what. 

“A friend of mine,” drawled Jake, with an odd touch of 


245 


The Rising Current 

aggressiveness. “You’re not precisely dead nuts on my 
friends as a rule, I know. But I guess this one may prove 
an exception. Dr. Capper turned up this afternoon. I 
left him having tea with Bunny.” 

“Dr. Capper!” Maud gasped the name, scarcely con- 
scious of speaking at all. 

“Dr. Capper from the States,” said Jake, unmoved. 
“He chanced to be just leaving for this country when my 
letter reached him, so he thought he’d answer it in person 
and look us up first. He and Bunny are fast pals already. 
He’s a regular magician, is Dr. Capper.” 

“But — but — you never expected him so soon!” faltered 
Maud. “Surely — he won’t want to — to — examine Bunny 
yet.” 

“Not before to-morrow, maybe,” said Jake. “We can’t ex- 
pect to keep him very long, you know. He’s a busy man. 
I’ve heard that people in this country simply tumble over 
each other to consult him. He could make a score of for- 
tunes over here if he would. But he won’t. He’ll only 
take up the cases he fancies, won’t waste himself over easy 
things. That’s why we’re so almighty lucky to get him.” 

His easy, unhurried speech gave her time to collect her- 
self. She forced her first, involuntary dismay into the 
background, facing the sudden exigency of the situation 
with all the strength at her disposal. 

“Jake,” she said, “this thing has come very suddenly, 
but curiously enough Lord Saltash was speaking about it 
only this afternoon. If — if there is to be anything of the 
nature of an operation, he has offered to place any part of 
the Castle at our disposal. It is a very generous offer, and 
it — it would be an excellent thing for Bunny.” 

“Then you have decided to accept it?” said Jake. 

His tone was perfectly quiet and matter-of-fact, but it 
amazed her. She had expected a determined opposition. 
Disconcerted, she paused before replying. 


246 


The Hundredth Chance 


'‘I don’t think it is especially generous,” Jake said, 
and again it seemed to her that he was talking to give 
her time. “But it might be a good thing for Bunny. If 
you like, I will go up to-night and see Salt ash about it.” 

He opened the gate for her with the words, and she 
passed through with feelings too mixed to bear any analysis. 

“Am I to go?” he asked, as he dropped back into his 
sturdy stride beside her. 

Please,” she said, in a low voice. 

His attitude was a complete puzzle to her. It seemed so 
utterly at variance with the absurdly jealous line he had 
taken but a few minutes before. But she could not ask 
for an explanation. The relief of finding him prepared to 
act in unison with her on this point was too great. She 
did not understand either his motives or his actions, but 
she was thankful to find that there was to be no battle of 
wills between them. After all, his motives were not of 
paramount importance. 

As they walked through the last field, she tried to banish 
her embarrassment and recover her normal composure of 
mien. But strive as she would, she could not wholly 
reassure herself. Nor could she forget the fast holding 
of his arms and the strong, deep throbbing of his heart 
against her own. That moment had been a revelation to 
her upon which she dared not dwell. 

They reached the dark orchard, and passed up the dim 
path to the house. Jake went straight up the steps to the 
French windows of the parlour from which a cheery welcom- 
ing light shone forth. He raised a hand to the catch. 

“Wouldn’t it be better to go round?” Maud said. 

She was suddenly trembling all over in an agitation that 
seemed to possess her, body and soul. 

Jake did not pause. Steadily he raised the latch. “Come 
right in!” he said. 

The door opened, the light poured out upon them. 


247 


The Rising Current 

There came to her the sound of Bunny’s cracked, difScult 
laugh. She entered in front of Jake, dazzled, hesitating, 
uncertain. 

Instantly a man’s voice greeted her, a quiet, casual 
voice with an unmistakable New York accent. '‘Ah, I 
guess this is the lady of the house. I am very pleased to 
make your acquaintance, madam. Mr. Bolton will have 
told you who I am.” 

Tall and gaunt and meagre, he bent over the hand she 
offered him, holding it in a strong, sustaining clasp. 

She looked at him rather piteously, aware of green eyes 
darting over her with lizard-like swiftness, eyes that shone 
intensely in a face that was the colour of old ivory. She 
also saw a yellow pointed beard that for a moment pre- 
judiced her and the next was forgotten. 

“ It was so kind of you to come, ” she said, with a quiver- 
ing smile. 

He smiled in answer, a sudden, transforming smile that 
warmed her heart. “I guess I followed my own inclina- 
tion,” he said. “Say, now, you’re cold. Bunny and I 
have been keeping up a good fire for you. Sit down and 
make your husband do the waiting!” 

His manner was so kind and withal so courteous that 
Maud’s embarrassment passed like a cloud. She came to 
the fire, pulling off her gloves and stretching her fingers 
to the blaze. 

Bunny accosted her with eager eyes. “Maud, he’s 
going to overhaul me and see if he can do anything for me. 
Maud, can’t he do it to-night? I won’t sleep a wink if he 
doesn’t.” 

Her heart sank inexplicably. She seemed to have 
stepped into a new atmosphere that seethed with possibili- 
ties that somehow frightened her. She was as one in the 
grip of a force indomitable that hurled her headlong towards 
a goal she dreaded. 


248 


The Hundrenth Chance 


She leaned upon the mantelpiece, looking towards Capper 
with more of appeal than she knew. “You are much too 
kind, ” she said. 

He pushed up a chair for her. “Say, now, there’s no 
need to hustle any,” he said. “I suspect there is no harm 
in my looking at the lad; but we don’t take any further 
action at present. I’ve a lot to get through in this old 
country, and I’d just like to know right now if this is a case 
for me or not.” 

He patted the back of the chair with fatherly insistence, 
and she sank into it with a feeling of utter weariness and 
impotence. It seemed futile to battle any longer against the 
torrent that bore her. She was as a straw in the whirlpool 
of Fate. 

“It is so good of you even to think of helping us, ” she 
said rather unsteadily. “ Please make your examination 
whenever it suits you best! But Bunny is not a good 
sleeper. You will remember that, won’t you?” 

Capper took up the cup of tea that Jake had prepared, 
and handed it to her. “Let me have the pleasure of seeing 
you drink this!” he said. “I should like to make my 
examination to-night, if you have no objection. In fact, 
I have come down for the purpose. My time, madam, is 
more limited than anyone on this side could ever be made 
to realize. I won’t hustle you, but if I didn’t hustle myself 
I guess I’d have to account some day for a waste of good 
material.” 

He sat down in a chair facing her with the words, and fell 
to cracking his finger- joints one after the other with absent 
energy. It was a way he had, as Maud was soon to discover. 

“You have had tea?” she asked. 

He nodded. “I am ready to get to work. I shan’t 
want an audience. If I want anything I’ll let you know. 
But I’ve a very decided notion that my patient and I will 
get on best alone.” 


249 


The Rising Current 

Jake raised his eyes suddenly. “That so, doctor?” he 
drawled. “Then I guess I’ll carry the youngster up right 
now.” 

Capper looked at him with a smile, and pulled his beard 
speculatively. Bunny beamed approval. 

Maud drank her tea in utter silence, feeling as if it would 
choke her. 

The silence became prolonged, but she did not realize 
that anything was expected of her till Capper leaned slightly 
towards her, and spoke. 

“ Have I your permission, madam? ” he asked courteously. 

She met his keen eyes and was struck afresh by the 
kindly reassurance they held. “Of course,” she said, in a 
low voice. “I — am very grateful to you.” 

“I hope — some day — you may have cause to be,” he 
rejoined. 

Jake went to Bunny’s side. She saw the boy raise his 
arms as he bent, and clasp his neck. A few muttered 
confidences passed between them; then Jake’s strong arms 
lifted the frail, impotent body as they alone knew how to 
lift. And in that moment it seemed to Maud that the 
beloved burden had been taken finally from her, and she 
was left to wander alone in a desert that was very dark and 
bare. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


LIGHT RELIEF 

“ ]\ /I AY I come in?” said Capper. 

1 V 1 Maud started. She had been sitting huddled over 
the fire for what seemed like countless ages, listening with 
straining nerves to every sound overhead and sometimes 
shrinking and trembling at what she heard. Jake had gone 
out long since to the stables, and she had been thankful 
to see him go. His very presence was intolerable to her 
just then. 

At the sound of Capper’s voice she turned an ashen 
face. “Say, now,” he said, in a tone of kindly chiding, 
“you’ve been scaring yourself, Mrs. Bolton; and if that’s 
not the silliest game under the sun, you may call me a 
nigger.” 

She rose to receive him, trying to force her quivering 
lips to. practical speech. But she could only articulate, 
“I heard him cry out several times. Does he want me?” 

“Not yet,” said Capper. He laid a very steady hand 
upon her shoulder. “Leave him alone for a little! He’ll 
pull himself together best alone. He’s got the spunk all 
right.” 

She stood still under his hand, piteously awaiting the 
information for which she could not bring herself to ask. 
He was looking at her keenly, she knew; but she could 
not face his look. She could have been strong had strength 
been essential, but the need for it seemed to have gone. 
Bunny no longer leaned upon her sustaining love. 

250 


251 


Light Relief 

“Come, now, I want a straight talk with you,” the gfeat 
doctor said. “I want to understand your point of view 
if you will be gracious enough to expound it to me.” 

She made a pathetic attempt to laugh. “Do you think 
you can cure him. Doctor?” she said. 

Capper laughed too with a species of grim exultation. 
“Is that what troubles you? If that’s all, I guess I can 
soon set your mind at rest. I can cure him absolutely — 
within three months. But I shall want your co-operation. 
Can I count on that?” 

His hand pressed upon her with something of insistence. 
His yellow face looked searchingly, with an odd elation 
into hers. She met his look reluctantly, and became 
dominated by it. 

“Of course you can count upon it,” she said. 

He nodded, pulling restlessly at his beard with his free 
hand. “To what extent, I wonder? Are you keen?” 

“Of course I am keen, ” she said, almost with indignation. 
He stood silent a moment, his hand still upon her shoulder. 
Then, “Mrs. Bolton,” he said, “do you know your young 
brother has got a curious notion into his head that you 
don’t want him to be made sound?” 

“Ah, but that is a mistake!” she said quickly. 

“Is it a mistake?” said Capper. “No, don’t answer! 
Why should you? But it’s curious that I should have 
sensed the same myself the moment I saw you. However, 
if you tell me it is not so, I shall take your word 
for it. But at the same time I think I begin to see your 
point of view. Without the care of him you would feel 
lost for a bit. Life might be rather difficult. Isn’t that 
so?” 

She laughed somewhat tremulously. “I think I have 
always found life difficult. But lately —just lately— ” She 
paused in uncertainty. 

“Ah!” said Capper. “Maybe you’re up against it. 


252 


The Hundredth Chance 


But youVe got solid ground to stand on. You may take 
■^ny word for that, because I happen to know.’^ 

He spoke with a kindness that went straight to her 
heart. Almost involuntarily she put her hand into his, 
feeling the long, active fingers close upon it with a sense of 
security that was infinitely comforting. 

“ Did J ake ever tell you the foundation of our friendship ? ’ ^ 
he asked her suddenly. 

She shook her head. 

“It’s an interesting story, ” Capper said. “ P’raps you’d 
like to hear it.” 

Maud was silent. 

He proceeded as if she had answered in the affirmative. 
“It was on a dark night in the Atlantic ten years ago. 
Do you remember the wreck of the Hyperion ? No, maybe 
you wouldn’t. She ran into a submerged iceberg and was 
nearly torn in two. I was knocked down by the shock and 
got jammed against a locker in the saloon. It was a case 
of every man for himself, and I was soon left to my fate. 
But Jake — he was working his way across as ship’s car- 
penter — came back on his own to see if there were anyone 
left below, and found me, wedged there in the wreckage. 
We were settling down fast, the water was over our knees, 
and I told him to look out for himself; but he wouldn’t. 
I cursed him for a fool, I remember.” Capper’s yellow 
face was strangely alight; his fingers gripped hers tensely. 
“But that didn’t make any difference. He had no time 
to go and get any implements to work with, so he just set 
to with his hands and ripped and tore at the wood till at 
last it splintered and he got me free. He worked like a 
Titan. I’ve never forgotten. He got me out just in 
time. Heaven knows how. The water was above his waist 
before he’d done, and I was on the verge of drowning. 
But he did it, and more also. He grabbed me up out of 
that death-trap, as if I had been a priceless possession of his 


253 


Light Relief 

own. He dragged me upon deck and roped me to him 
because I was too damaged to help myself. And when we 
went down, as we very soon did, we sank together and 
we came up together, and he managed at last to get me 
to a boat. Now you’ll never get him to speak of that 
episode, but it’s about the finest piece of work I’ve ever 
come across. The man was utterly unknown to me and 
I to him. Yet he never thought of passing me by, but just 
kept on till he’d saved my life. Not a thought to his own 
safety, mark you. He wasn’t out for that. And he wasn’t 
out for reward either. When I offered him money later he 
just laughed in a purring sort of fashion and told me to 
keep it for some chap who had failed. ‘ We don’t all of us 
win out on the hundredth chance,’ he said. ‘Thank the 
high gods, not me ! ’ I saw he meant it, so of course I let 
him have his way. But it’s been a sort of bond between 
us ever since — a bond that stretches but never breaks.” 

He ceased to speak, ceased also to hold her hand. Maud’s 
face was turned towards him, her blue eyes were intently 
fixed upon his. She said nothing whatever, and there fell 
a silence that was curiously intimate between them. 

Capper broke it at length. “He’s been a bit of a rover, 
but I’ve never quite lost sight of him since that night. 
When I make a friend like that, I can’t afford to lose him 
again. But I’ve never had a chance of doing him a service 
till now. He’s a married man and considerably more 
civilized than he was in those days. But I have a notion 
that there’s a leaven of the wild ass still in his composition. 
That’s why I’m afraid you may not realize that he’s gold 
all through— all through.” He paused a moment, looking 
at her quizzically; then: “By way of light relief,” he 
said, “I guess you know the fascinating story of the princess 
and the frog. She had to take the beast as he was, and 
even give him her pillow o’ nights. But only when she 
struck at last and threw him against the wall did she find 


254 


The Hundredth Chance 


out that she’d caught a prince after all. I guess the man 
who wrote that story was a student of human nature. 
It’s a comic story anyway.” 

Maud was laughing. Somehow, inexplicably, the man 
had eased her burden. “I don’t think you are presumptu- 
ous, Doctor,” she said. “I think you are very kind.” 

“It’s mighty fine of you to take that view, ” said Capper, 
with a tug at his yellow beard. “I shall do my best to 
deserve it.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


THE ONLY SOLUTION 

* /^^H, Lord Saltash! So you’re home at last! What 
a pity you didn’t come back a little sooner!” 

'‘Am I late for anything, Lady Brian?” smiled Lord Salt- 
ash, holding her hand in his. 

She shook her head at him. “You are hopelessly late. 
And you mustn’t call me that. I have renounced my 
title.” 

“Really? How generous of you!” Saltash began to 
laugh in his easy, mocking way. “Lady Brian has left 
town for the South Coast, and Mrs. Sheppard is now in 
residence at Fairharbour. I am sorry that I was not at 
hand to escort her ladyship; but I am none the less pleased 
to be received by Mrs. Sheppard. Have I missed anything 
besides the first-mentioned privilege?” 

Mrs. Sheppard threw out her hands with a dainty gesture 
of despair. “My dear Charlie, you’ve missed — every- 
thing! Have you seen my poor Maud?” 

He nodded. “More than once. I make a point of 
seeing her whenever I feel so disposed. Now that she is in 
such safe hands, there is no longer any necessity to hold 
me at arms’ length, I assure you we are on the best of 
terms.” 

Mrs. Sheppard groaned. “Why, oh, why didn’t you 
come back sooner? It would have altered — everything.” 

He looked at her, the teasing smile still hovering about 

255 


^6 


The Hundredth Chance 


swarthy face. “It would have been too obvious a 
ilution/' he said lightly. “Don’t you know that the 
anattainable is always the dearest?” 

Mrs. Sheppard clasped her hands with a tragic gesture. 
“You don’t realize — or perhaps you don’t care — that she 
has sold herself to a man for whom she has not the smallest 
shadow of affection.” 

“In pursuit of her illustrious mother’s example?” sug- 
gested Saltash, • with careless effrontery. “But why did 
you allow it? Wasn’t it up to you to forbid the banns?” 

“I?” Mrs. Sheppard cast up her eyes. “Do you 
suppose I have ever had any control over her?” 

“I presume you had the slapping of her in her babyhood, ” 
he observed. 

She laughed almost hysterically. “As if I ever did or 
could! She was always so serious and quiet and deter- 
mined. No one she didn’t love could ever move her an 
inch. And the dear child never loved me, you know. 
Somehow we didn’t touch. No, I couldn’t prevent the 
marriage. Only one person in the world could have done 
that. Oh, Charlie, what a pity! What a pity!” 

The easy tears had risen to her eyes. She was very 
appealing in woe. 

But Saltash was apparently unmoved. He sat facing 
her with his odd eyes glancing hither and thither, the brows 
above them jerking continually. “She certainly married 
in the deuce of a hurry,” he remarked, after a moment. 
“What made her do it, eh? I presume it was the old man? 
Did he turn amorous, or what?” 

Mrs. Sheppard laughed rather pathetically and dried her 
eyes. “Oh, dear, no! Giles was rather too severe. He 
was always willing to be friendly, but Maud’s attitude was so 
hostile that at last — it was hardly to be wondered at — he 
turned against her. I was very sorry, but, you know, Maud 
always takes things so seriously, poor child, and she wouldn’t 


257 


The Only Solution 

hear of making friends when it was over, but must needs 
go straight away to Jake Bolton and offer to marry him. 
He was ready to take her at any price of comse. So 
they settled it all between them with never a word to me.” 

“But you haven’t altogether enlightened me even now, ” 
said Saltash, recalling her with his semi-ironical courtesy. 
“What was this dire offence that Maud couldn’t bring 
herself to forgive? I should like to know for my own future 
guidance.” 

Mrs. Sheppard’s laugh had a deprecating note. “Oh, 
it was only a little thing, quite a little thing. If she hadn’t 
been really spoilt all her life, I don’t think she wotdd have 
thought so much of it. I blame myself of course. But 
there, what is the use? Giles is a plain man, and he be- 
lieves in a little wholesome chastisement now and then. 
It does a woman good, he says. And I daresay he is not 
altogether wrong. But in this case ” 

“Oh, forgive me for interrupting you!” Rather lazily 
he cut her short. “That term ‘a little wholesome chastise- 
ment’ — does it mean a beating or what?” 

Mrs. Sheppard nodded with some agitation. “Yes, he 
gave her a whipping^ one [night. It was very unfortunate, 
but I must say, not wholly undeserved. And I am afraid 
he had rather a heavy hand. Poor Maud was very much 
upset.” 

“ Really 1 ” said Saltash. 

“Yes. He shouldn’t have done it of course, but ” 

• “He probably was not in a state to know what he was 
doing,” suggested Saltash. 

There was a slight frown between his mobile brows, but 
his voice was suave. 

Mrs. Sheppard eyed him wistfully. “Poor Giles!” she 
murmured. 

Saltash uttered a sudden sharp laugh and rose. “Well, 
I mustn’t take up any more of your valuable time. No 


17 


258 


The Hundredth Chance 


doubt you are busy. You have heard about Bunny’s 
prospects, I presume?” 

“Oh yes, they have told me about Bunny. I am sure I 
hope it will be a success, but of course I have had no say 
in the matter,” said Mrs. Sheppard plaintively. “I don’t 
so much as know when the operation is to be performed.” 

“That isn’t finally settled,” said Saltash. “It’s to 
be according to the American doctor man’s convenience. 
I suggested that they might like to make use of Burchester 
for the occasion, and Bolton has caught on to the idea. 
Very sensible of him!” Saltash ’s mouth twisted into a 
faint smile. “How do you get on with your son-in-law?” 
he enquired pleasantly. 

Mrs. Sheppard shook her head dubiously. “I never 
liked him. There is something of the wild about him. 
Maud doesn’t like him either. I am sure of that. They 
are complete strangers, and always will be. In fact, if it 
weren’t for Bunny — ” she lowered her voice— “I believe 
she would very soon desert him.” 

“What? Really?” said Saltash, in a peculiar tone. 

She met his interrogation with a swift upward glance. 
“She would never stand life alone with him. It would 
drive her desperate. I am sure — quite sure — if it comes to 
that, she will somehow break free.” 

“Really!” he said again, subtle encouragement in his 
voice. 

Mrs. Sheppard suddenly clasped her hands against her 
bosom and went close to him. “Oh, Charlie, I do think — 
sometimes — divorce is the only way. You know she has 
always loved you. And it isn’t your fault you came too 
late. Charlie, if the chance were to come to you again — 
the chance to make her your wife — you wouldn’t — surely 
you couldn’t — let it slip again?” 

“Again!” said Saltash. His lip lifted a little. He was 
looking at her fixedly. 


259 


The Only Solution 

She made a small nervous gesture of pleading. “You 
would marry her, Charlie, if you could. She loves you. 
You would never — never ” 

“Let her down?” suggested Saltash. 

His expression was utterly cynical, yet something in 
those queer eyes of his emboldened her. She placed her 
two hands against his shoulders, and suffered the tears to 
run down her face. 

“Charlie, I am wretched about her — quite wretched. 
Save her from that rough cow-herd, Charlie! Make her 
your own — in spite of all!” 

She broke down into muffled sobbing, and would have 
leaned upon him for support had he permitted it. But 
with gentle decision he eluded her, taking her hands and 
leading her to a chair. 

“Now, Lady Brian, there is no need for this agitation, 
believe me. For the present there is nothing to be done. 
Bunny occupies the centre of the stage. He won’t, of course, 
remain there for ever, but he has got to have his turn. 
Till that is over, we can only possess our souls in patience.” 

“But afterwards!” wailed Mrs. Sheppard. “It is the 
afterwards that troubles me.” 

“Afterwards,” he said lightly, “I presume it v/ill be 
someone else’s turn.” 

“And Maud will be miserable,” she protested. 

Saltash was silent. Only after a moment he strolled to 
the window and stood looking at the grey, tumbling waves 
that dashed against the sea-wall. 

Mrs. Sheppard dabbed her eyes and began to recover 
herself; it was plainly the only course. She remembered 
regretfully that sympathy had never been dear Charlie’s 
strong point. 

When he glanced over his shoulder a few seconds later 
she mustered a somewhat piteous smile. “ Life is very dif- 
ficult sometimes,” she said apologetically. 


26 o 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Oh, quite damnable,” he answered, in his careless, 
mocking way. “But weVe got to get through with it 
somehow, and with as few tumbles as possible. I really 
think I must be going now. We shall let you know when 
anything definite is settled about Bimny. Don’t fret, 
you know ! T ake it easy ! ’ ’ 

He came back to her with the words and took her 
hand with a certain arrogant kindness characteristic of 
him. 

She looked up at him with quivering lips. “It is so 
good of you to let them have Burchester,” she said. 

He made her a brief bow. “I serve my own ends,” he 
said. 

Mrs. Sheppard rose. “And I don’t know what will 
happen when Bunny is cured, ” she said pathetically. “ He 
will have to go to school. And who is going to pay for it, 
I wonder?” 

Saltash shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps he’ll train for 
a jockey. Who knows?” 

Mrs. Sheppard sighed. “I can’t think how you can 
treat everything as a joke. I can’t myself.” 

He laughed. “I don’t chance to be gifted with a serious 
mind, you see. Besides, cm bono? Does worrying help ? ” 

“I’m sure it ought to,” sighed Mrs. Sheppard. 

He laughed again derisively. “Sheer waste of time, 
believe me. Either fight or submit to the inevitable! 
Personally, I prefer to fight.” He shut his teeth with a 
sudden click, and for a single instant his face was grim. 
But the next he was laughing again. “Good-bye, Lady 
Brian! In the name of beauty, don’t fret! It can’t be 
done with impunity, remember!” He pressed her hand 
and released it. “You’ve given me quite a lot to think 
about. It’s been an interesting conversation. I have 
quite enjoyed it. Good-bye!” 

He was gone. She heard him departing, light-footed as 


The Only Solution 261 

a happy boy, whistling under his breath an old, old waltz 
refrain. 

Gradually a smile came into her own face as she turned 
to the glass to repair the ravages of her recent emotion. 

“I wonder whether he will do anything,” she murmured 
to her reflection. “He isn’t a man to sit still. And really, 
the circumstances are so exceptional. It is the only solu- 
tion — literally the only one.” She paused a moment, 
drew out a hairpin, twisted back a curl and very nicely 
readjusted it. “And when Giles is bankrupt,” she added, 
with a little nod to the thoughtful gaze that met hers, 
“there will be a home for me to go to.” She heaved a 
pensive sigh. “I am glad he knows everything, ” she said. 
“There is nothing like telling the whole truth.” 

She smiled again with more assurance, and went her 
way. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE FURNACE 

I T was on a frosty morning in February that Maud stood 
in one of the great guest-chambers of Burchester Castle, 
waiting with Bunny for news of Dr. Capper’s coming. 

A nurse was busy in the room, and the hour fixed for the 
operation was drawing near. 

Bunny was full of pluck that morning. He had greeted 
her bravely smiling. Yes, he had slept like a top, thanks to 
Jake, who had held his hand half the night and scared 
away the bogies. Jake was a stunner; he was going to 
pay him back some day. And what a ripping room Charlie 
had given him! Was it true that there was a music-room 
close by? That would be ripping too. Maud would be 
able to play to him all day long while he was getting well. 
Maud was looking a bit blue this morning; what was the 
matter? 

She had to admit that she had passed a restless night. 
“Silly!” said Bunny, and squeezed her hand. “Why 
didn’t you come and sleep in here ? Jake could have looked 
after you too then.” 

He chattered on incessantly, making her respond, com- 
pelling her attention, till news was brought to her of Dr. 
Capper’s arrival, and she went down to receive him. 

She found him standing in the great entrance hall with 
the doctor from Fairharbour. He moved forward to greet 
her as serenely as if he had come upon pleasure bent. 

262 


The Furnace 


263 


“Delighted to meet you again, Mrs. Bolton. I am just 
admiring this fine old English castle. Guess it's the sort of 
setting that suits you.” 

He held her hand a moment and looked at her, but he 
made no comment upon her appearance. 

She faced the green eyes with an odd little feeling of 
shame. They seemed to see so much that she hid from all 
the world. 

“You are very — punctual,” she said, with an effort, as 
she turned to greet the local doctor. “I hope you found 
the car ready at the station.” 

“We were driven up by his lordship himself, ” said Capper. 

She gave a great start. “0! Has he come down? I 
didn’t know.” 

“He joined us at the terminus quite unexpectedly,” 
Capper told her. “I have brought my assistant Raf- 
ford to administer the anaesthetic, Rafford, where are 
you?” 

A dark young man, with absolutely black eyes and a 
high, dominant forehead, turned sharply from a rapt 
contemplation of Saltash’s Captured Angel, and bowed 
automatically to Maud. 

“I was just trying to make out the anatomy of those 
wings,” he said, in a very pronounced American accent. 
“Guess it’s a cute addition to the human frame, but I’d 
like to know how it’s worked from the spinal column without 
an extra vertebra or two.” 

Maud suddenly felt hysterical. She looked at Capper, 
who pulled at his beard and smiled. 

“Guess it’s up to you to find the solution. Raff,” he 
said. 

Rafford bowed again. “I’d like to make a sketch of that 
figure if Lady Saltash will permit me,” he said. “It’s an 
anatomical problem . ” 

The blood rose to Maud’s pale face in a great wave. 


264 The Hundredth Chance 

She was about to speak, when a voice at her shoulder spoke 
for her. 

“lam sure Lady Saltash will be charmed to do so. But 
I think the face must be excluded. That can scarcely be 
of any anatomical interest to you.” 

Maud started. Saltash’s hand gripped her elbow for a 
moment and instantly relaxed. He did not speak to her. 
The young American glanced back at the face of the statue, 
stared at it for a second, then looked again at Maud. She 
saw his thin black brows rise ever so slightly. 

“The face is certainly of interest,” he said, speaking 
with evident caution; “but not, as you say, my lord, from 
an anatomical point of view.” 

He withdrew himself with the words, seemed as it were 
to become Capper’s background, while Saltash sauntered 
forward to offer refreshment. 

Capper asked for coffee and smoked a cigarette. He sat 
in an ungainly attitude by the fire while these were in 
process of consumption, and spoke scarcely at all. Maud 
stood near him in silence, chafing at the delay, yet 
dreading unspeakably the moment when it should be at 
an end. 

Saltash lounged smoking on a settee with Dr. Burrowes 
of Fairharbour, and chatted cheerily about local matters 
with one eye on the great American surgeon who sat cracking 
his long fingers so abstractedly before the fire. 

Suddenly Capper turned his head and looked up at Maud. 
“Where is Jake?” 

“He is coming,” she made answer. 

“Coming! Why? Does the boy want him? Is he 
nervous any?” 

“He is being very brave,” she said. “But of course, 
naturally, he is nervous.” 

He nodded. “Well, I guess we needn’t wait for Jake. 
Let’s go up! He’ll keep a stiff upper lip if you’re there.” 


The Furnace 265 

He got up with the words; his bony, yellow hand closed 
upon her arm, kindly, reassuringly, confidently. 

The burden of her anxiety grew magically lighter. She 
felt immensely comforted by reason of that friendly pres- 
sure. She prepared to lead the way. 

Capper paused a moment., “I am going to have five 
minutes’ talk with the patient, ” he said to Dr. Burrowes. 
‘‘Will you be kind enough to follow on when the time is 
up? Raff, you can make your anatomical study right 
now, but be at my disposal in five minutes! Lord Saltash, 
maybe you will stay behind and show them the way.” 

He made his dispositions with the calm air of a man 
accustomed to obedience; and then, his hand still upon 
Maud’s arm, he turned with her to ascend the stairs. 

A great shivering fit assailed her as they went. She 
fought it resolutely down. 

“Say, you’re not worrying any?” he questioned. “It 
seems to me that it’s you Jake ought to be thinking about. 
What have you been doing since I saw you last?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” she said hastily. 

Capper grunted. “That’s a very unhealthy occupation, 
especially for a woman.” 

She looked at him appealingly. “ Oh, please. Dr. Capper, 
don’t talk about me! I — I would so much rather not.” 

Capper smiled a little. “You’re a true woman. But 
I can’t have you worrying to death like this. Will you 
believe me when I tell you that this operation is going 
to be an almighty success?” 

She stopped short. “Are you sure— quite sure?” she 
breathed. 

He nodded. “I am willing to stake my reputation on 
it. If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t touch it. I’m past the 
speculating age.” He led her gently on along the corridor 
at the head of the stairs. “You may bet your last dollar,” 
he said, “that I shan’t mush up this business. I never 


266 


The Hundredth Chance 


lose my patients when theyVe young and keen. It’s the 
older ones, when they get tired, fed up with life — ” He 
paused, and a very human shadow crossed his face, dark- 
ening his shrewd eyes. “That’s when God sometimes 
interferes, ” he said. “So I’m never quite sure of the older 
ones. But the youngsters — He lets me have my own 
way with them. There’s such a mighty force in what the 
French CdiWjoie de vivre'' 

A quick sigh rose to Maud’s lips. She laid a sudden, 
impulsive hand upon the long thin fingers that held her 
arm. “You are so good, so very good,’’ she said tremu- 
lously. 

Capper smiled. “Oh, just ordinary, I guess. Wait till 
you’re up against me! You won’t like me then. I’m 
going to have a straight talk with Jake presently — about 
you.” 

She gave a quick start of dismay. “Oh no! Please 
don’t! Please don’t! It — it’s nothing to do with Jake. 
He wouldn’t understand.” 

“He’ll understand me,” said Capper inexorably. “I’ve 
a patent way of expressing myself that leaves no room for 
misunderstandings. There! Now I’ve given you some- 
thing more important than your brother to think about. 
Suppose you take me to him!” 

She would have detained him to protest still further, 
but he refused to be detained, and she found herself com- 
pelled to yield. Very quietly he insisted, and she had no 
choice. 

They entered the room in which Bunny lay; and im- 
mediately a square check-clad figure rose from the boy’s 
side and came forward with hand outstretched in greeting. 

“Hullo, Doc!” said Jake. 

Maud gazed at him in astonishment. “I had no idea 
you were up here. When — how did you come? ” 

Jake was faintly smiling. “I came just now, by the 


The Furnace 267 

back way, as is my custom. I promised to be here to give 
him a send-off, Doctor. Guess you’ve no objection?” 

“ So long as you go when you’re told, ” said Capper rather 
shortly. 

“Reckon I always do that, ” said Jake. 

“ Do you? ” said Capper, with his sudden smile. “That’s 
not always been my experience of you.” 

“Oh, shucks!” said Jake, turning deep red. 

Capper passed him by, and went to Bunny. Maud 
saw that he was intent upon reassuring him as he had 
reassured her. She turned away to the window, and 
waited. 

Jake did not join her there, possibly because his hand 
was tightly locked in Bunny’s. But very soon Capper 
called her back to the bedside, and drew her into talk, 
keeping her there till he finally rose and went out with the 
nurse. 

Maud scarcely knew how she came through the next 
few minutes, but Jake and Bunny seemed to feel no strain. 
Jake was talking of the horses, and the boy’s keenest 
interest was aroused. 

“And you’re going to teach me to ride like you do,” he 
said, with an eagerness that Maud had seldom seen in him. 
“I’m just mad to begin.” 

He was picking up Jake’s manner of speech in a fashion 
that his sister deplored but could not attempt to check; 
but no evil word had she ever heard on his lips, nor had 
she ever heard Jake use bad language in his presence. 

Like one in the mesh of an evil dream she listened to 
Jake’s reply, marvelling at the easy detachment with which 
he made it. And then the door opened, and the nurse 
came in with Rafford. She stood up, her heart beating 
as if it would choke her. 

Bunny shot a swift glance around. “You’ll stay with 
me, Jake?” he said quickly. 


268 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Sure,” said Jake. 

Bunny drew a hard breath. “Hang on to me — tight, 
Jake!” he whispered. 

And Maud turned to the door without a word. He did 
not need her — he did not need her 1 

She had a passing impression of the sympathy in Raf- 
ford’s eyes as he held open the door for her, and then she was 
alone in the passage outside. 

She moved along it uncertainly, almost as if groping her 
way, found the door of the music-room ajar, and entered. 

A warm fragrance met her on the threshold, a sense of 
Eastern luxuriance and delight, soothing her troubled 
spirit as with a soft, healing hand, wooing her to a curious 
peace of mind. It was as though a misty veil had been 
drawn over her troubles, obscuring them, deadening her 
faculty for suffering. 

She went forward to the fire that burned so mysteriously 
red and still, reaching out her cold hands to its comfort. 
She had a feeling that she ought to kneel and pray, but 
somehow in that strangely soothing atmosphere prayer 
was an impossibility. Her brain felt drugged and power- 
less, and she was numbly thankful for the respite. 

“ Come and sit down!” a cool voice said. 

She turned with no surprise or agitation and saw Saltash 
lounging on a divan behind her. He had a cigarette 
between his fingers. The scent of it came to her with a 
strange allurement. Almost mechanically she accepted the 
invitation. 

“Have you been here at all in my absence?” he asked, 
stretching a careless arm along the cushions behind her 

She shook her head. “No.” 

“ But why not ? Does J ake think I am not to be trusted ? ” 

She smiled at that. “Oh no. Jake never interferes. 
But — somehow — I haven’t wanted to make music lately.” 

“You are not happy, ’’ said Saltash, with conviction. 


The Furnace 269 

She coloured a little. “It has been an anxious time, 
Charlie, and, I am afraid, yet will be.” 

“You take things too hard, ” he said. 

She clasped her hands tightly together. “How can I 
help it? Everything is hard. Life is hard.” 

“ Only if you choose to have it so, ” said Saltash. 

He leaned a little forward, looking into her face. She 
turned her eyes to his with a vague reluctance. 

“ Yes, ” he said. “ YouVe got the wrong pilot on board. 
That's why you’re getting dragged into the whirlpools. 
You’ll have to heave him over the side if you want to ride 
the seas with a free helm. My dear girl, what a frightful 
mess you’ve made of things!” 

She did not resent his tone. Somehow in that atmos- 
phere resentment was difficult. Moreover, her attention 
was not wholly given to what he was saying. 

“ I had to think of Bunny, ” she said, after a moment, as 
one in search of an excuse. 

Saltash laughed. “And when are you going to begin 
to think of yourself? Don’t you realize what is going to 
happen now that Bunny has been taken off your hands? 
You, the dainty, the proud, the fastidious, who wouldn’t 
look at even the man you loved because you thought him 
unworthy! On my soul, — ” a sudden tremor of passion 
ran through his speech — “I think you were mad. You 
must have been mad to have done such a thing. Have you 
looked forward at all? Can you see yourself a few years 
hence? I can — and it’s a sight to make angels weep. 
Oh, Maud, my love, my fate, is that to be the end? I’d 
sooner see you dead!” 

His hand was upon both hers as he ended. His dark 
face was burning with a fierce emotion. 

But Maud only shivered, and leaning forward, gazed 
deep into the heart of the fire, saying no word. 

Saltash watched her, a mocking light in his eyes that 


2^o The Hundredth Chance 

shone and slowly died. “What are you looking for?’' he 
said. 

She shook her head in silence. He threw his cigarette 
suddenly into the deep glow upon which her eyes were 
fixed. It leaped at once to flame, flame that burned 
ardently for a brief while, and then went out. 

“Are you trying to find a way out?” he asked her then 
very softly. “ There is a way out of every hole, believe m.e.” 

She gave him a quick glance as of one hard pressed, but 
still she did not speak. 

He leaned forward also, pointing to the red heart of the 
fire that glowed but never flickered. “If you have the 
nerve, — the pluck — to face the furnace,” he said, “it may 
scorch you a bit, but it shan’t consume you. And it 
would be soon over. Would you be afraid — would you be 
afraid — to face it with me?” 

His voice was low, sunk almost to a whisper; yet it 
reached her, for he spoke almost into her ear. 

She sat rigidly still, gazing before her. The fragrance of 
the burnt cigarette came out like incense from an altar. 

He drew a little closer to her. “Maud, I am always 
ready — always ready. I am willing to offer any sacrifice. 
I should never count the cost. Nothing could be too much. 
I don’t say any more that you are mine — unless you stoop ^ 
to bestow yourself upon me. But I am yours — always — 
for all time. Bear that in mind — when the time comes!” 
He paused a moment; then: “Let that ring of ours be 
the sign and message,” he murmured. “When you need 
deliverance, I will come to you from the world’s end.” 

He rose with the words, so suddenly that she was startled; 
and in a moment his voice calm and debonair rang across 
the room. 

“Hullo, Bolton! How long have you been hiding there? 
Come over here, and see if you can put a little heart into 
your wife! She needs it.” 


The Furnace 


271 


Maud, her white face turned over her shoulder, saw Jake’s 
square shoulders outlined against the furthest south win- 
dow. He was looking over his shoulder also; their eyes met 
across the room. Then he turned round fully in his solid 
way and came to them. 

He was wearing slippers that he had donned for the sick 
room, and they made no sound. 

Saltash’s lithe form straightened. He stood ready, 
almost on guard, at the other man’s approach. But his 
face remained debonair still. There was even a hint of 
humour about his mobile brows. His eyes flashed wickedly. 

“So they’ve turned you out, have they?” he said, with 
that hint of regal haughtiness that usually characterized 
his speech when addressing an inferior. 

Jake did not answer. His eyes, red-brown and very 
still, were upon Maud. They did not leave her for a 
moment. They seemed to search her through and through. 

There came to her a second of deadly panic, panic that 
stopped her heart. She put up a hand to her throat with a 
spasmodic effort to breathe. And suddenly it seemed to 
her that she sat engulfed in the red, red heart of a soundless 
furnace. She gave a gasping cry, tried to rise, and fell 
forward fainting at her husband’s feet. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


THE SACRIFICE 

H e lifted her. She knew that he lifted her, but all her 
powers were gone. She hung, a dead weight, in his 

arms. 

Over her head she heard his voice, intensely quiet 
but deeper than usual; she thought it held a menacing 
note. 

“ I’ll take her to the window. Thanks, I’m not wanting 
any help from you.” 

She felt the strength of the man as he lifted her bodily, 
and bore her across the room. He set her down upon the 
window-seat, supporting her with the utmost steadiness 
while he opened the window. The wintry air blew in upon 
her, and she shivered and came to life. 

‘‘Don’t move!” he said. 

The awful weakness was still upon her; she obeyed him 
because she had no choice, lying back against his arm in 
quivering submission. 

“I’m — so sorry,” she whispered at length. “I — I never 
did anything so stupid before.” 

“That so?” said Jake. 

She lifted her eyes with a piteous effort to his. “Please 
leave me now! I shall do quite well — by myself.” 

“That so?” he said again. 

His eyes held hers with a piercing, straight regard; but 
after a moment his hand came up and rubbed her icy cheek. 

272 


The Sacrifice 


273 


It was a small act, but it affected her very curiously. She 
turned her face quickly to hide a rush of tears. 

Jake’s attitude changed on the instant. He stooped over 
her, his arm about her. “Say, Maud, my girl, what is it? 
What is it?” he said. “The little chap will be all right. 
Don’t you worry any!” 

The old kindness was in his voice ; he held her to him just 
as he had held her on the morning that she had first gone to 
him for help. For the moment she yielded herself, scarcely 
knowing what she did; then she realized his nearness and 
began to draw herself away. 

” I am foolish, ” she whispered, “just foolish. Don’t take 
any notice!” 

“Guess you’re worn out,” he said gently. 

She shook her head, striving to master herself. “No, it’s 
not that. It isn’t anything. Please leave me alone for a 
little! I would rather.” 

He let her go, but he still remained beside her, looking 
down at her bent dark head. She leaned against the 
woodwork of the window, panting a little. 

“I am better,” she said uneasily, after a moment. 
“Please don’t worry about me any more!” 

“Who else should I worry about?” he said. “Do you 
suppose you aren’t first with me every time?” 

She quivered at the question, but she made no attempt to 
answer it. 

He went on with a restraint that was somehow eloquent 
of vehemence suppressed. “I know well enough that you 
aren’t happy with me. It’s not in nature that you should 
be. Maybe it’s my fault too; maybe it’s not. I’ve been a 
damn’ fool; I know that. But even so, you’ve no call to be 
afraid of me. You won’t come up against me if you play a 
straight game.” 

He paused, and she saw his hands slowly clench. At the 
same moment she became aware of someone approaching, 

18 


274 


The Hundredth Chance 


and turned her head to see Saltash coming towards her with 
a wine-glass in his hand. 

“Oh, that’s right; you’re better,” he said. “Here, 
Bolton! Make her drink this I It’ll put a little life into her.” 

He gave the glass to Jake who stood a moment as if 
undecided as to what to do with it, then bent over Maud. 

She drew back. “Oh no, thank you! I never drink 
brand3^ Besides, I am quite well again now.” 

She made as if she would get up to demonstrate this 
fact, but he stopped her. “Take a little!” he drawled. 
“Lord Saltash has had the trouble of fetching it.” 

“I would rather not,” she said. “I would much rather 
not.” 

“Let her please herself!” said Saltash sharply. 

But Jake’s hand, steady as rock, was already holding the 
glass to her lips. She drank as one compelled. 

Saltash fidgeted up and down in front of the window in 
evident dissatisfaction, his ugly face full of lines. “I am 
infernally sorry this has happened,” he said. “You ought 
to have had the stuff sooner. I wish I had ordered cham- 
pagne. We’!! have some presently. Ah, that’ll do, Jake, 
that’ll do! Don’t force it on her, for Heaven’s sake! Look 
here, you and I will clear out now, and let her rest in front 
of the fire. You’d like that, Maud, wouldn’t you?” 

Maud murmured an affirmative. 

“Sure?” said Jake. 

She looked up at him. “Yes; but not too near the fire. 
And — and leave the door open. I want to hear — to know 
■ — ” Her voice failed, sank into silence. 

All right,” Jake said quietly. “I’m not leaving you 
till it’s over.” 

The calm decision of his speech silenced all protest. 
Maud attempted none. Saltash shrugged his shoulders 
and flung round on his heel. Jake bent to offer a steady 
arm. 


The Sacrifice 


275 


She accepted his support in silence. There was that 
about him that would not brook resistance just then. She 
was sure that Saltash was aware of it also, for after a very 
brief pause he began to whistle under his breath and in 
very few moments more sauntered from the room. , , • 

Jake, very quiet and determined, led her to a settee. 

‘'I won’t lie down,” she said restlessly. “I want to 
listen.” 

Jake was looking round for a chair. Failing to see one, 
he seated himself by her side. “I reckon this is the most 
respectable piece of fiirniture in the place,” he observed. 
^ ‘ Here is a cushion. Lean back and shut your eyes ! ” 

“I wish you wouldn’t wait here,” she murmured 
I uneasily. 

I “ I’ve got to wait somewhere, ” said Jake. 

' And then his hand descended upon hers and held it. 

She started at his touch, seeking instinctively to free 
herself, but in the end she yielded, lying back in a tense 
stillness in which she knew the beating of her heart to be 
^ clearly audible. 

What was he going to say to her? What had he over- 
heard? What must he think of the agitation she had 
displayed upon discovering him? 

Her breath quivered through her parted lips. The dread 
of the night before was upon her, but ten times magnified 
by her present weakness and the thought of that which he 
1 might have overheard. 

' But Jake sat in unbroken silence, his hand holding hers 
1 in a steady, purposeful grasp ; and gradually, very gradually, 
I her fear began to subside. He could have heard nothing! 
r Surely he could have heard nothing! Surely, if he had, he 
would have spoken, have questioned — or accused! 

' A great shiver went through her. 

“Cold?” said Jake. 

, She opened her eyes. “No.” 


2^6 


The Hundredth Chance 


His hand closed more firmly about her own. “Don’t 
be so anxious!” he said. “It’ll be all right.” 

His voice was kind, she tried to smile. 

“Was he — was he very nervous?” she asked, finding 
relief in speech. 

“Game all through, ” said Jake. “Went off like a baby. 
Say, Maud, he’ll be a fine man some day.” 

“He’ll never be mine any more,” she said, and turned 
her face aside. 

Jake said nothing. He fell into a musing silence that 
seemed to stretch and widen to an unknown abyss between 
them. She closed her eyes, hoping that he would think 
her sleeping. 

He remained absolutely still by her side while the silence 
lengthened and deepened. She wondered for a while if he 
were watching her, wondered if he were actually as free 
from anxiety on Bunny’s account as he appeared, became 
finally vaguely aware of a curious hushed sense of repose 
stealing over her tired nerves. She drifted away at last 
into a state that was not quite slumber, that yet held her 
trance-like and unaware of time. She knew that Jake was 
beside her, never wholly forgot his presence, but he had 
ceased to have a disquieting effect upon her. Somehow 
he fitted into the atmosphere of peace that surrounded her. 
She was even dimly glad that he had not left her alone. 
She was tired, unutterably tired, but her mind had ceased 
to work at the problems that so vexed her soul; it had 
become as it were dormant. Even the thought of Bunny 
did not disturb her any more. Had not Dr. Capper solemnly 
declared that all would be well? 

So she sank into an ever-deepening sea of oblivion, 
unmindful of the hand that so surely held her own; and so 
that long, long hour crept by. 

When there came at last the opening of a door and the 
soimd of voices she was too far away in her merciful dream- 


The Sacrifice 


277 


land to hear. She knew in a vague fashion that Jake’s 
hand left hers, even murmured a faint protest, but she did 
not attempt to rouse herself. She had yielded too com- 
pletely to the healing magic of rest. 

There followed a space during which all consciousness 
was entirely blotted out and she slept like a weary child, a 
space that seemed to last interminably, and yet was all too 
short. Then at length nature or conscience stirred within 
her, and her brain began to work once more. Out of a 
vague obscurity of dimly registered impressions the light 
of understanding began to dawn. She opened heavy 
eyes upon the red, still fire that burned so steadily, so un- 
failingly. It put her in mind of something — that hot, 
silent fire — but she could not remember what it was; 
something that was vigilant, intense, unquenchable, some- 
thing that she could never wholly grasp or wholly elude. 

She opened her eyes a little wider, and moved her head 
upon the cushion. Surely she had slept for a long, long 
time! 

And then she caught the sound of a voice that whispered 
— a low, clear whisper. 

“Why don’t you take her for a honeymoon, my son? 
It would do you both all the good in the world.” 

There was a pause, and then someone — Jake — ^mur- 
mured something unintelligible. Maud raised herself 
slightly and saw him standing before the fire. His thick- 
I set figure was turned from her. His head leaned somewhat 
dejectedly against the high mantelpiece. 

Capper was standing beside him, lounging against the 
carved wood in an ungainly attitude, his hands thrust 
deep in his pockets. At Jake’s muttered words he turned 
and looked at him keenly, with eyes of semi-quizzical 
sympathy. 

“Say, Jake,” he said, “the man who walks his horse 
^ - hedge-side never gets there. The hedge has a 


278 


The Hundredth Chance 


way of getting higher, moreover, every step he goes. Guess 
being in love has kind of demoralized you. You’ll never 
win out this way.” 

Jake moved a little, straightened himself, stood squarely 
facing the great doctor. “I’m going to win out,” he said; 
and with that very abruptly he wheeled round and came 
straight to Maud, as though she had called him. 

So sudden was his movement that she was taken wholly 
by surprise. He stooped over her and took her hand before 
she had time to draw back. 

“It’s all right, my girl, ” he said, and she heard a note of 
reassurance in his voice. “The little chap’s come through 
it finely. There’s nothing to be anxious about. Capper 
says so; and whatever Capper says goes.” 

“Guess that’s so,” said Capper. He remained at his 
post by the fire, a smile of keen satisfaction on his parch- 
ment face. “You shall see him presently; not yet, not for 
another hour, and then only for a few seconds. He’s got 
to be kept as quiet as an infant. But I’ve done just what I 
figured to do. In another six weeks he ought to be learning 
to walk.” 

“Bunny — ^walking!” Maud spoke the words as one 
dazed. The whole of her world seemed suddenly to have 
changed. It was as if she actually breathed a new atmos- 
phere. She caught her breath, feeling half afraid. “Is 
it — is it true?” she said. 

Capper laughed. * ‘ Seems like a miracle, does it ? Never 
met with a miracle before? Yet there’s quite a lot of ’em 
to be seen in this curious old world. Maybe you’ll come 
across some more, now you’ve started.” 

He came quietly to her, bent and took her free hand into 
his. She felt his thin, sensitive fingers press her pulse. 

“I’m quite well indeed,” she said in a tone of protest. 
“Please tell me more about Bunny. I want to hear 
everything.” 


The Sacrifice 


279 


“My dear lady, you know practically all there is to 
know,” he made answer. “Bunny is going to be one of 
my proudest successes. But there’s just one thing to be 
arranged, I want to have him under my own eye for a time. 
It’s for his own good, so I know your consent is a foregone 
conclusion. No, not yet of course. I will give him a 
month here, and then I want to fetch him up to London 
and keep him in a Home there belonging to my colleague 
Sir Kersley Whitton until I am able to discharge him as 
cured. Will you agree to that?” 

His eyes, shrewd and kindly, looked down into hers. His 
hand still held her wrist. She felt the magic of his per- 
sonality, and found it hard to resist. 

But, “To take him away from me!” she said rather 
piteously “Must you take him away?” 

Jake had withdrawn a little as if he did not wish to 
take part in the conversation. Capper sat down beside 
her. 

“Mrs. Bolton,” he said, “I guess that young brother 
of yours is just one of the biggest factors of your existence. 
Isn’t that so? You’d do anything for him, and never count 
the cost. Well, here’s something you can do for him, a 
mighty big thing too. It’ll be a very critical time, and I 
want to have him under my own eye. I also want to have 
complete control of him. I’m not hinting that your 
influence isn’t good. I* know it is. But, for all that, 
he’ll do better with comparative strangers during that 
critical time than he would with his own people. I want to 
lift him entirely out of the old ruts. I want to start him 
on an entirely new footing, to give him self-reliance, to 
get him into good, wholesome habits. It’ll make all the 
difference in the world to him or I shouldn’t be urging it so 
strongly. Say, now, you promised me your co-operation, 
you are not going to refuse?” 

She could not refuse. She realized it with a leaden heart. 


28 o 


The Hundredth Chance 


Yet she made one quivering attempt to pierce throu^ the 
ever-narrowing circle. 

“But the cost,” she said. 

“It won’t cost you- a single cent,” said Capper. “It’s 
just for my private satisfaction that it will be done.” 

Her last hope faded. She made a little gesture of help- 
lessness. “He is in your hands. Doctor,” she said. “I — I 
am much more grateful to you than I seem.” 

Capper’s hand pressed hers. “You will never regret this 
sacrifice as long as you live,” he said, looking at her with 
his keen, kindly eyes. “I’m even ready to prophesy that 
you’ll one day reap a very considerable benefit from it.” 

But Maud’s only answer was a dreary little shake of the 
head. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


THE OFFER OF FREEDOM 

S LOWLY the dreary winter days gave place to spring. 

March came with gusty rain-storms that swept 
over sea and downs; lashing the waves to fury, blotting 
the countryside like a torn veil. March fwent, smiling 
and wonderful, with a treacherous graciousness that de- 
ceived all nature into imagining that the winter was really 
gone. 

At Burchester Castle, Bunny, lying perpetually flat on his 
back by the doctor’s unalterable decree, alternated between 
fits of bitter complaining and fits of black despair. He 
suffered more from tedium and weariness than from any 
definite pain, and Maud found herself fully occupied once 
more with the care of him. The nurse was thankful to have 
her at hand, for Bunny was at all times a difficult patient. 
And to be in attendance upon him was Maud’s greatest joy 
in those days. She watched over him with such a wealth of 
devotion as she had never displayed before, a devotion 
at which even the boy himself sometimes marvelled. 

Jake came and went, but he was never with him at night. 
The nurse slept in his room and Maud in the one adjoining. 
Jake went back to his home to sleep. 

He and Maud saw but little of each other. They met 
daily, but she avoided all intercourse with him so strenu- 
ously that only the most ordinary commonplaces ever 
passed between them. 


281 


282 


The Hundredth Chance 


She saw much more of Saltash, though he was often away. 
His comings and goings were never known beforehand, and 
he never intruded himself upon her. Only when she went 
in the afternoons or evenings to the music-room and, prop- 
ping the door wide, played and sometimes sang to Bunny, 
he had a fashion of coming lightly in upon her, dropping as it 
seemed from nowhere, and lying outstretched upon the settee 
near her while he smoked his endless cigarettes, and occa- 
sionally criticized. 

How he entered she never discovered ; he was always there 
before she knew, and he never came in by the door. When 
she asked him, he would only jest. 

“Some day I will show you my secret chamber, ma belle 
reine. But not yet — not yet.” 

No intimate conversation took place at these times. 
They were seldom really alone, being always within call of 
Bunny’s imperious voice. 

Saltash was very good to Bunny, but his company was 
considered by the nurse to be too lively for her patient, 
and she would not permit him to stay long in the sick-room. 
Her orders regarding Bunny were very strict. He was to be 
kept quiet, — contented also, if possible, but always quiet. 

For that reason his mother’s visits were also very brief. 
She did not often come to the Castle. It seemed to Maud 
that her plump face was beginning to wear a harassed 
look, but there never had been any confidence between 
them, and she did not like to question her. She knew her- 
self quite powerless to assist in the bearing of her mother’s 
burdens. 

During that final month of devotion to Bunny she gave 
herself up to him so completely that even her own problems 
grew remote and almost unreal. She was upon the usual 
friendly terms with Charlie ; but he was very far from occup}^- 
ing her first attention. So absorbed indeed was she that 
the memory of their brief conversation on the day of 


The Offer of Freedom 


283 


Bunny’s operation, together with his mad, characteristic 
suggestion, had faded altogether into the background of her 
mind. It seemed somehow impossible that Bunny could 
ever cease to be the centre and aim of her whole conscious 
existence, impossible that Capper and his miracles could so 
alter the trend of her life’s destiny. 

Her feeling for Salt ash seemed to be lying dormant, very 
far below the surface. She was not thinking of herself at all 
just then. She was too fully occupied. Her feeling'for 
Jake also was almost a blank. Now that he no longer 
attempted to play any part in her life but that of passive 
spectator, she treated him without conscious effort as a 
comparative stranger. But all the time deep down in her 
heart she smothered that nameless dread of the man that 
once had been so active. She did not want to think of him; 
she instinctively restrained herself from thinking of him. 
She had schooled herself to meet him without agitation. 
She had thrust him unresisting into the furthest back- 
ground of her consciousness. And now she lived for Bunny, 
and for Bunny alone. 

So that last month slipped away. 

April came, but no word from Capper. A faint, new 
hope began to dawn in her heart. Was it possible that the 
sacrifice might not after all be demanded of her? Was it 
possible that the miracle might even yet be worked out with 
much patience at Burchester? Bunny did not seem to be 
making much progress, but at least she was sure he was not 
losing ground. He did not suffer so much as formerly, 
though his chafing irritability sometimes seemed to her to be 
even greater than before. He talked incessantly of Capper, 
urging Jake to write to him. 

But Jake would not be persuaded. “Capper knows his 
own business, my son. You leave him alone ! ” he said. 

And Bunny had perforce to accept the fiat. He never 
seriously attempted to resist Jake. Their friendship was 


284 The Hundredth Chance 

too near for that. J ake’s influence over him was practically 
boundless. 

But he could not check the boy’s fierce impatience which 
grew perceptibly from day to day. 

It was on a warm afternoon towards the middle of the 
month that Maud was sitting at the piano, trying to soothe 
him with the music he loved, during the absence of the 
nurse, when the sound of a footfall in the room made her 
turn. Saltash had been away for a few days, but she was 
half-expecting him. He never remained away for long. 

'‘Why, Charlie, — ” she began, with a quick smile of wel- 
come, and broke off sharply. It was Capper. 

Her face must have displayed something more than sur- 
prise, she reflected later, for his first words, albeit he smiled 
whimsically as he uttered them, were words of apology. 

“So sorry, Mrs. Bolton. I shouldn’t have taken you off 
your guard like this, only I had a notion that being some- 
what over-due, you might be more or less prepared to see 
me.” 

She left the piano, and went with outstretched hand to 
meet him. “You at last!” she said. 

Her welcome was cordial, but it was wholly without 
eagerness. Her heart was beating wildly, uncontrollably. 
She felt suddenly cold, as if she had stepped into a stone 
vault. 

Capper bent a little over her hand; she saw his eyes flash 
over her. “I don’t find the frog in attendance,” he re- 
marked. “Has he been shunted for a spell?” 

She felt her colour come again. “Don’t you want to 
hear about Bunny?” she said. 

He smiled at her. “I know my own business so well, 
madam, that I know all I need to know about Bunny,” he 
told her dryly. “The boy is just mad to be allowed to try 
his strength, and between you and me he’ll have about the 
biggest disappointment of his life when he does. It won’t 


The Offer of Freedom 


28 


do him any harm though, so don’t you worry any!” 1 
suddenly held up her hand to the light and surveyed it 
critically. “Say, Mrs. Bolton,” he said, “what do you 
! live on ? J ust monkey-nuts ? ’ ’ 

She laughed in spite of herself. “I live very well, I 
assure you. But I could never get fat. It’s not my 
natirre.” 

He grunted and pulled at his yellow beard. “Do you 
realize that you’ve lost pounds of flesh since it was first my 
privilege to meet you?” 

She shook her head protestingly. “Oh no, really. It is 
your imagination. ” 

Capper shook his head also. “ My imagination feeds on 
facts only. Jake is not looking after you properly. It’s 
my belief he is treating you to slow starvation. ” 

“Oh indeed — indeed,” she broke in with vehemence, 
“Jake has had nothing to do with me lately. I have been 
much too busy with Bunny, and he has had the good sense 
not to interfere.” 

“Is that good sense?” said Capper, in the tone of one 
who does not require an answer. 

' “Besides,” she went on rather breathlessly, “it’s not 
; Jake’s business to look after me.” 

“I thought that was what husbands were for,” said 
Capper, with his whimsical smile. “ It’s a fool policy 
anyway to leave a woman to look after herself, and you’re 
just a living illustration of that fact.” 

Her hands clasped his arm almost unconsciously. “Please 
— please don’t ever discuss me again with Jake! ” she begged 
in tones of distress. 

He patted her hand with fatherly reassurance and passed 
the matter by. “What are you going to do when Bunny is 
gone?” he asked. 

Her face paled again. “You are really going to take him 
away?” she said. 


.86 


The Hundredth Chance 


“To-morrow,” said Capper. 

She removed her hands with a gesture that was piteous, 
she said nothing whatever. 

Capper turned aside. “Maybe you’ll take up house- 
keeping,” he said practically. “If I dare to venture upon 
the suggestion, you would make a charming hostess.” 

She was silent still. 

He glanced at her. “Say, Mrs. Bolton,” he said, “I 
guess you’ll think me several kinds of a nuisance ; but your 
husband has offered me his hospitality for to-night. And 
I, — well, I have accepted it provisionally, that is, on the 
condition that he can supply me with a hostess.” 

She looked at him in blank dismay. “ But I sleep here ! ” 
she said. “I — I must be always at hand in case Bunny 
should want me. ” 

“Isn’t the nurse in attendance?” asked Capper, with a 
touch of sharpness. 

“Oh, of course,” she answered. “But — but ” 

“And how often in the night does she generally call 
you?” 

Maud was silent. ' 

Capper’s hand patted her shoulder again, paternally, : 
admonishingly. “ Guess he could spare you for to-night, ” 
he said. “Pack your grip and come home! Jake will be 
pleased to see you, sure. ” ' 

She shivered. “ It isn’t home to me, ” she said. 

“What?” said Capper, “Not your husband’s house?” 

The hot colour rushed up over her face. She turned; 
from him. “Come and see Bunny!” she said. 

A few minutes later she stood alone in the music-room, I 
gazing forth from the western window with eyes that; 
seemed to search the horizon for help. 

Capper was occupied with Bunny. The nurse had 
returned, and she was not needed. The certainty of this 
was upon her, a dead weight pressing her down. Bunny’s 


The Offer of Freedom 287 

need of her was past for ever. Duty, stark and implacable, 
was all that remained in life. 

^ Ah! A step behind her! She turned swiftly. “Charlie!” 

I He came to her, a smile on his swarthy face, a gleam of 
I wickedness in his eyes. He took the hands that almost 
involuntarily she stretched to him. “You summoned me ! ” 
he said. 

I Something in his look warned her of danger. His clasp 
, was electric in its tenseness. 

j She stood a moment before replying; then: “I didn’t so 
much as know you were in the house, ” she said. 

I She left her hands in his. An odd recklessness was upon 
her, the recklessness born of despair. 

I He laughed into her eyes. “Yet you summoned me, 
most tragic queen of the roses,” he said. “You weren’t 
i so much as thinking of me, perhaps? Yet subconsciously 
your spirit cried to mine, and behold — I am here. ” 

I He had drawn her close to him, holding her hands against 
i his breast, so that the quick, ardent beat of his heart came 
I to her, sending a curious, half-reluctant thrill through her 
own. 

I She looked into his face of mocking subtleties. “No, I 
wasn’t thinking of you, Charlie,” she said. “I was think- 
ing of myself, hating the life before me — hating every- 
thing!” 

The concentrated bitterness of her speech was almost like 
a challenge. She spoke passionately, as one goaded, not 
caring what came of it. 

Saltash was bending slowly towards her, still laughing, 
ready to take refuge in a joke if refuge were needed, yet dar- 
ing also, warily marking his game. “Why don’t you think 
of me — for a change?” he said. 

She turned her face swiftly aside. Her lips were sud- 
denly quivering. “No one — not even you — can help me 
now,” she said. 


288 


The Hundredth Chance 


“You are wrong,” he answered instantly. “I can help 
you. It’s just what I’m here for. ” 

She glanced at him again. “As a friend, Charlie?” she 
said. 

He bent his dark head over her hands. “Yes, a friend, ” 
he said. 

“But — ” She began to tremble; the old dread was 
upon her, the old instinctive recoil, the old ache of dis- 
trust. She set her hands against him, holding him from her. 
“How can you help me?” she said. 

He did not lift his head. “I can’t keep you out of the 
furnace altogether,” he said. “But I can save you from 
living in bondage to a man you loathe. You will have to 
trust me — to a certain extent. Do you trust me? ” 

“I don’t know.” Her voice was low, quivering with an 
agitation she could not repress. “Tell me what you are 

thinking of! Tell me how — how ” 

“ I will tell you, ” he said, “when you have made up your 
mind as to my trustworthiness. ” 

She controlled her agitation with an effort. “Oh, don’t 
play with me, Charlie I ” she besought him. “ Don’t you see 
I’m cornered — desperate? Of course I will trust you. ” 

He looked up at her with a wry lift of one eyebrow. 
“Being a case of needs must, ” he observed dryly. “Well, 
my dear girl, the case is simple enough. You are ready to 
trust me because you must. No one else is under the same 
obligation. Everyone else — the worthy cow-puncher in- 
cluded — ^knows my fascinating reputation. Disappear with 
me for a week or so — we’ll run away and hide — and all 
charitably-minded folks will jump to the obvious conclu- 
sion. The result will be an undefended divorce suit, and I 
shall pay the damages.” His smile became a grimace. 
“That is your road to freedom, ma belle reine,'" he said. 
“And think on me, I pray thee, when that freedom shall be 
achieved! There are sunnier lands than England where 


The Offer of Freedom 


289 


? lovely ladies may be wooed by wandering cavaliers. And 
[ surely, surely,” his smile flashed forth again, “having thus 
. made such atonement for past offences as lies in my power, 
my queen would stoop to be gracious to me at last!” 

He bent again over her hands, holding them pressed to 
his lips. 

Maud stood mute. The audacity of the suggestion 
seemed to deprive her of the power of speech. None but 
Charlie could ever have evolved such a plan. None but 
Charlie — who loved her! 

The sudden realization of his love went through her like 
. a sword- thrust in her heart. She actually gasped with the 
: pain of it. What he suggested was impossible of course — of 
course! But how gallantly, and withal how tenderly, he 
had laid the offer before her, urging no claim, merely — out of 
the love he still had for her — offering her deliverance! 

But she must And an answer for him. He was waiting, 
bent in courtly fashion, with that kinglike carelessness of 
pose that marked him out from all other men. 

She looked at the bowed head that could be poised so 
arrogantly, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. She 
made a movement to withdraw her hands. 

“Oh, Charlie, ” she said, in a broken, passionate whisper, 
“if I were only free!” 

He raised his head on the instant. “ But you can be free. 
I am offering you freedom. A little courage, a little con- 
fidence ! Can't you face it with me? Are you afraid? ” 

His voice was eager, his eyes were shining and boyishly 
persuasive. His hands still clasped hers with a pressure so 
vital and insistent that she felt impelled to suffer it. 

She shook her head. “No, Charlie. It isn't that. 
But^ — but — my promise ! ’ * 

“Oh, what of that?” he said impetuously. “A promise 
made under compulsion is no bond at all. You can't keep 
it and yet be true to yourself. The mistake lay in making 


19 


290 


The Hundredth Chance 


it. But to stick to it would be worse than madness. Listen, 
Maud! You must listen! Your marriage is an abomina- 
tion, and you must rid yourself of it, whatever the cost. I 
can see — I have seen all along — that it is an absolute vio- 
lation of your whole nature. You shrink from the man. 
I believe in your soul you abhor him. You did it on 
impulse. He knows that. And you have repented ever 
since. Your heart was never in it. I think I know where 
your heart is,” — his voice suddenly softened, and his hand 
began subtly to draw her back to him. “ But we won’t dis- 
cuss that now. It isn’t the time. I am concerned only to 
deliver you. And I am offering you such deliverance as you 
can accept, a deliverance that you can safely contemplate 
without shrinking. The publicity of the thing need never 
touch you personally. You can live in seclusion till it is all 
forgotten. Maud, my Maud, won’t you — can’t you — 
trust an old friend?” His hands were drawing her closer. 
His dark face, aglow with the ardour of his quest, was close 
to hers. “You want to be free,” he urged. “And — my 
darling, — I want you free, I want you free!” 

His voice throbbed into silence. He was drawing her — 
drawing her. In another moment he would have had her 
in his arms, but she held back from him with quivering, 
desperate strength. “No, Charlie! No!” she said gasp- 
ingly. 

He released her hands at once, and abruptly. With a 
species of royal indifference curiously characteristic of him, 
he veiled his ardour. “It is for you to choose,” he said. 
“ 1 don’t take. I offer. ” Then, as she covered her face, he 
softened again, took her suddenly, very lightly, by the 
shoulders. “Have I gone too far, queen of the roses?” 
he whispered. “ Yet he will go further still. It is that that 
I want to save you from. You must forgive me, sweet, if 
I seem too anxious. I am hard pressed myself. I want you 
badly enough, it’s true. But that i:n’t my main reason 


The Offer of Freedom 


291 


for urging this. If you had married a man you cared for, 
I could have borne it. But this, — this is intolerable. 
There! I have done. Only remember, that I am ready 
— I am always ready. I shall wait for you by day and by 
night. Sooner or later — sooner or later, I know you will 
come. DonT be afraid to come. Queen Maud! I will be to 
you whatever you wish always. I only ask to serve you. ” 

Rapidly he uttered the low words, still holding her with 
a touch that was scarcely perceptible, but of which she was 
so vividly conscious that she quivered from head to foot, 
every nerve stretched and vibrant, burningly alive, chafing 
to respond. 

The wild impulse to yield herself to his arms, casting, 
away all shackles, was for the moment almost overpowering. 
Her spirit leapt to the call of his, beating fiercely for freedom 
hke a caged bird viewing its mate in the open sky. How she 
restrained it she knew not. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it 
was that old, instinctive sense of fitness that had influenced 
her long ago. But the moment passed, and she remained 
motionless. 

Saltash turned aside. 

He betrayed no sign of disappointment. That also was 
characteristic of him. He saw no defeat in failure. He 
regarded it only as victory postponed. 

And his attitude said as much when after a moment or 
two he began to speak in a light and careless strain of 
matters indifferent to them both. If he had not squarely 
hit his mark, he was not far therefrom, and with that he 
was content. He knew her to be nearer to his level than 
she had ever been before. The Maud of old days would 
have viewed his suggestion with the shrinking horror of a 
spirit that had never known temptation. The Maud of to- 
day was different, more human, more truly woman. She 
had suffered, and her dainty pride had ceased to uphold her. 
He had offered himself to her in the light of deliverer, and 


292 The Hundredth Chance 

as such he believed he would win her. The odds were at last 
in his favour. 

As for Jake, he might be formidable, but Salt ash was no 
coward. He fancied that when the time came, Jake would 
accept the inevitable. In any case he was far too keen 
upon the chase to be deterred by the thought of an outsider 
like Jake. If any element of danger existed, he welcomed 
it. If a thing were worth having, it was worth fighting for. 
Saltash never had in any one of his rash intrigues paused 
to count the cost, and certainly it was not often that the cost 
had been borne by him. He snatched his pleasures, and he 
drank deep thereof; but the dregs he was wont to throw 
away. Once only — or possibly twice — had he ever been 
made to drink to the bottom of the cup. And he did not 
stop now to consider that on each of those occasions the cup 
had been firmly held in the hand of Jake Bolton. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


THE BOND 

1 HAVE called him The Hundredth Chance, said Jake. 

‘‘But I guess he is going to be a winner. ” 

He was stooping over a tiny black foal that stood with 
trembling legs pressed against its mother’s flank. She was 
looking round at the master with questioning eyes. Even 
he was only allowed in the loose-box on suffrance. 

‘'‘You’re very hopeful,” said Capper. 

He stood leaning on the half-door, looking in upon Jake’s 
latest treasure. 

Maud was standing with him, but slightly apart, fondling 
the red setter Chops who fawned about her knees. Chops 
had been unfeignedly delighted to see her again, and he could 
not desist from telling her so. She had bid good-bye to 
Bunny till the morrow, but she had made no definite arrange- 
ments for leaving the Castle, and even yet she was wonder- 
ing if she might not manage to return for that one last night 
of her brother’s sojourn there. 

Jake had received her without comment when she had 
arrived with Capper half an hour before. She fancied his 
manner was somewhat guarded, but he treated her as if he 
had expected her and her coming had caused him no sur- 
prise. 

Uponanordinary occasion she would have been charmed 
with the sight of the week-old foal that Jake had brought 
them thither to see, but at the moment she was too stiff with 

293 


294 


The Hundredth Chance 


shy reserve to enjoy it. So she stood apart instead while 
Jake talked in his soft voice to the doctor, striving to hide 
her embarrassment in murmured endearments to Chops. 

“ Oh yes, the dam’s a blood mare, ” Jake was saying, “the 
most valuable animal we have. She’s a mass of nerves, 
unfortunately. We’ve had a lot of trouble with her. ” 

He stretched a fondling hand to the creature’s enquiring 
muzzle. She laid her ears for a moment, but the next her 
tongue came out and softly licked first his fingers and then 
the wistful black face of her offspring. 

J ake smiled and stood up. “ She’s a good mother. Doctor. 
I like a good mother,” he said. 

His eyes fell on Maud, bending low with flushed face over 
the dog. A momentary shadow crossed his face. He had 
counted upon a greater enthusiasm on her part. Never 
before had she failed to take a keen interest in the animals. 
“Reckon we’d better go in and get some supper, he 
said. 

They went in. The spring twilight was falling and with 
it a brief shower that pattered awhile and was stayed. 
Down in the orchard the blackbirds were singing in a wonder- 
ful chorus that seemed to fill all the world with music. 
The scents that rose from the rain-steeped earth were of that 
wondrous fragrance that holds the senses spellbound in the 
magic of Spring. 

From somewhere near the open French window there came 
the breath of violets, and from a little further away, subtly 
mingling with it, the incense of wallflowers, all wet and 
luscious from the damp, sweet earth. 

“A wonderful season, ” said Capper. 

' Jake smiled somewhat grimly. “A stormy May,” he 
said. 

The meal was of the simplest, served by Mrs. Lovelace in 
her best gown of black sateen. Her plump face wore a 
pursed look of peculiar severity. Maud, very pale and still. 


The Bond 


295 

at the end of the table, gave her a murmured greeting which 
called forth a very grim response. 

Jake was apparently at his ease, but he made no attempt 
to draw his wife into the conversation. He talked to Capper 
or was silent. He was still wearing the riding-costume with 
which she always associated him. She heard the clink of 
his spurs whenever he moved. 

Capper was very gentle with her, full of kindly considera- 
tion. There were no difficult pauses. To a casual observer 
there would have been no evidence of strain. Only to the 
girl, sitting there at her husband’s table, a stranger, was it 
almost insupportable. She did not know how she came 
through the meal, nor was she aware of eating anything. 
When it was over at last, she was thankful to rise and go. 

She took refuge upstairs in the room that had been 
Bunny’s, standing there in darkness, striving with herself, 
fighting desperately for composure. What was expected 
of her she did not know, whether to go or to remain. The 
impulse to go strongly urged her, but she held it back. 

^^There was the morrow to be thought of, the morrow to be 
faced, and she had a feeling — a dreadful, growing sus- 
picion — that Jake was drawing to the end of his patience. 
Not that he had betrayed it by word or look; only he 
seemed to be waiting, waiting with an iron determination 
that no action of hers could baulk. She felt that if she fled 
from him to-night, she would never dare to face him again. 

The thought of Charlie arose within her, Charlie, careless, 
debonair, gay of soul. He had offered her his protection. 
Should she go to him — even now? Could she? Dared 
she? 

The temptation drew her, drew her. She knew Charlie so 
well. She was sure he would be chivalrous. She was sure 
she could count upon him. But his protection— what was 
it worth? 

Now that she had seen Jake, had felt the primitive force 


296 


The Hundredth Chance 


of the man anew, her heart misgave her. She was possessed 
by the appalling conviction that in the matter of lawlessness 
Jake could outdo Charlie many times over, if once roused. 
No trammels of civilization would hold him. He would go 
straight for his prey, and no power on earth Votdd turn him 
aside, or make him relinquish his hold till he had wreaked 
his vengeance. 

For the first time it occurred to her that it might not be 
upon herself alone that that vengeance would fall. A great 
shudder went through her. She quivered all over, and turn- 
ing crept to the bed and crouched beside it. She was 
terrified, unnerved, despairing. Her own wickedness 
frightened her, so that she cotild not even pray for help. 
She knew not which way to turn. 

A long time passed thus; then there came a step upon the 
stair, a steady, quiet step. A hand pushed open the door. 

“Say, Maud, are you here?” Jake said. 

She tried to answer him, but could not. She knew that 
the moment she spoke, she would betray herself. 

He came forward into the room. She saw his square 
figure against the light outside the door. 

“Capper has gone back,” he said. “He wouldn’t stay 
any longer.” 

That startled her to a tragic activity. She sprang up in 
wild dismay. “Dr. Capper— gone! I— I thought he was 
spending the night!” 

“I wanted him to, ” said Jake. “He wouldn’t. He said 
I was to wish you good-night, and thank you for your 
hospitality.” 

Maud stood still, her hands at her throat. For the mo- 
ment she was too electrified for speech. Then anger — bitter, 
furious resentment — came to her aid. 

“So you brought me here by — a trick!” she said, her 
voice pitched very low but full of a quivering abhorrence 
that must have reached him where he stood. 


The Bond 


297 


*‘I don’t know what you mean,” said Jake. His voice 
was curt and cool; he spoke without the smallest evidence 
of indignation or constraint. never asked you to come, 
nor did I ask Capper to bring you. I presume you were a 
free agent so far as that goes. But since you are here there 
is not much point in running away again. It’s here that 
you belong. ” 

The finality of his speech came upon her with stunning 
force. It had the dead level of absolute assurance. As he 
made it, he came forward into the room, and she heard the 
rattle of his matchbox as he drew it forth. 

She stood and waited tensely while he deliberately struck 
a match and lighted one of the candles upon the mantel- 
piece. All the blood in her body seemed to be throbbing 
at her throat. She had not been alone with him for weeks. 
She had never been alone with him as she was to- 
night. 

The light from the candle showed her the room prepared 
as for a guest. ■ The chintz covers were all newly-starched, 
and from the bed there seemed to come a subtle scent of 
lavender. The lattice-window was wide to the night, and 
from far away there rose the long deep roar of the sea. 

Jake turned from the lighted candle, and pointed to a low 
chair by the bed. “Sit down!” he said. “There’s some- 
thing I’ve got to say to you. ” 

She looked at him with hunted eyes. She thought his 
face was very grim, but the dim flickering light threw strange 
shadows upon it, baffling her. 

He came to her as she still remained upon her feet, took 
her between his hands, and held her so, facing him. 

“Say, now, ” he said, and a hint of half -coaxing kindliness 
softened the measured resolution of his speech, “where’s the 
sense of fighting when you know you can t win? You re 
not a very good loser, my girl. But I reckon it s just a 
woman’s way. I won’t be hard on you on that account. 


298 


The Hundredth Chance 


She drew back from him swiftly, with the old, instinctive 
shrinking from the man’s overwhelming force of personality. 

“Oh, need we talk about that now?” she said hurriedly. 
“I — there is still Bunny to think of. It is his last night, 
and — and — and ’ ' 

She broke off with a sound half-choked that was almost a 
cry. For Jake’s hands were holding her, drawing her, 
compelling her. She realized that in another moment she 
would be in his arms. She set her quivering hands against 
his shoulders, pushing him from her with all her strength. 

He set her free then, with a gesture half-contemptuous. 
“ So it’s to be the same old fool game to the bitter end, is 
it?” he asked, and she caught in his voice a new note as of 
anger barely held in check. “Well, I reckon it’s up to you 
to make good sooner or later. It was not my intention to 
hold you down to that bargain of ours; but if you must have 
it, you shall. I want to know when you propose to make 
good.” 

She shrank away from him in quivering disgust. “Oh, 
never, never!” she said. 

The words rushed out almost against her will, and the 
moment they were uttered she wished them back. For 
Jake’s eyes leapt into sudden furious flame, such flame as 
seemed to scorch her from head to foot. He did not speak 
at once, but stood looking at her, looking at her, while the 
awful seconds crept away. 

At last, “It’s rather — rash of you to put it that way,” 
he said, and there was a faintly humorous sound in his voice 
as though he restrained a laugh. “ So you’re not — a woman 
of your word after all? That’s queer — damn’ queer. I 
could have sworn you were.” 

She wrung her hands hard together in a desperate effort at 
self-control. “Oh, Jake,” she said piteously, “it isn’t my 
fault that we’re not made of the same stuff, indeed — indeed ! 
You— you wouldn’t ask the impossible of me!” 


The Bond 


299 


“ P’raps not, ” said Jake, and now he spoke in the old soft 
drawl that she knew well as a cloak to unwavering deter- 
mination. “But has it never occurred to you that I might 
leave asking and just — take?” 

She recoiled further from him. The man’s deadly assur- 
ance appalled her. She had no weapon to oppose against it. 
And his eyes were as a red-hot furnace into which she dared 
not look. 

“Now, listen to me!” he suddenly said. “There’s been 
enough of this fooling around — more than enough. I’ve 
put up with it so far, but there’s a limit to everything. The 
time has come for you to remember that you are my wife, I 
am your husband. We may not be over well suited to one 
another, as you have pointed out. But the bond exists and 
we have got to make the best of it. And so you will not go 
back to the Castle to-night. Y ou will stay here under your 
husband’s roof, and fill your rightful place by my side. Is 
that understood?” 

He spoke with the utmost decision; and Maud, white to 
the lips, attempted no reply. She had made her appeal, and 
he had not heard it. She knew with sure intuition that 
further resistance would be useless. She had staked all» 
and she had lost. In that moment she saw her life a heap 
of ruins, blasted by a devastating tempest that had scat- 
tered to the four winds all that she had ever held precious. 
And nothing was left to her. Nothing of value could ever 
be hers again. Only out of the smoking ruins there pres- 
ently arose one thing — a poison plant — that was to flourish 
in the midst of desolation. Out of the furnace of a man’s 
unshackled passion it sprang to full growth in a single night 
ready to bear its evil fruit when time should have made it ripe. 

The seed of it had been sown by Saltash. The tropical 
raising of it was the work of Jake Bolton. The nourishing 
of it was left to Maud. But the final ingathering of that 
bitter harvest was to fall to the lot of all three. 


PART II 


THE RACE 

CHAPTER I 

HUSKS 

C HOPS the setter was puzzled. 

He had'been following his mistress about in his faithful 
way throughout the whole of that hot July afternoon, and 
he had fathomed the fact that she was preparing for a 
visitor. He even half-suspected that he knew who the 
visitor would prove to be. But none the less was he 
puzzled by her attitude. For to Chops’ plain and honest 
mind the coming of a guest was a cause for undiluted joy. 
But it was evident that to Maud the advent of this one 
was a matter of anxiety, even almost of dread. 

Jake’s old bedroom facing the Stables had been assigned 
to the newcomer. She had spent hours of loving care upon 
it, yet on this, the great day of arrival, she did not seem 
happy or by any means content. 

A great restlessness possessed her, and Chops in conse- 
quence was uneasy also. He had conceived a vast affection 
for his young mistress that was in some fashion vaguely 
mingled with pitying concern. She had a disconcerting 
way of weeping in private when only Chops might see, 
and he had a feeling that such consolation as he was able 
to proffer, though quite whole-hearted, was never altogether 

300 


Husks 


301 


equal to the occasion. The tears she shed were so piteously 
hopeless, and even her smiles were hopeless too. Chops 
often mourned over the sadness of his idol. 

I She had just come in from the garden with a great 
j handful of sweet peas. It was a glorious sunny morning, 
i and she had put on an old blue sunbonnet that had done duty 
j down on the sea-shore in previous summers to protect her 
I from the glare. She was holding the flowers up to her 
; face as she mounted the steps to the parlour, and such was 
i her absorption that she did not notice what Chops, following 
I close behind, perceived on the instant, — the strong, square 
i figure of her husband waiting in the entrance of the glass door. 

! She was actually within touch of him before she was 
j aware of his presence, and then with a great start she 
. lowered her flowers, while over her face there came a look 
that was like the sudden donning of a mask. 

“I thought you had gone,” she said. 

^‘Not quite, ” said Jake. 

He bent slightly as she entered, stretched out a hand, 

1 took her by the chin, and kissed her mask-like face. 

I She endured his action with the most complete show of 
I indifference, neither returning nor avoiding his caress. A 
i faint, faint tinge of colour showed in her cheeks as with 
i scarcely a pause she passed on into the room; that was all. 

“It is getting late,” she observed. “I think you had 
better go.” 

Jake’s eyes, red-brown and shining, followed her with a 
masterful expression as she moved to the table and laid 
down her flowers, marking the queenly bend of her neck, 
the cold majesty of her pose. 

He said nothing for the moment, merely took his pipe out 
of his pocket and began to fill it. 

Maud went to the sideboard for a vase. Her movements 
were very measured, very stately. She did not so much as 
glance towards the man who watched her. The old quick 


302 


The Hundredth Chance 


nervousness of manner had gone utterly from her. She 
was like a marble statue endued with a certain icy anima- 
tion. 

“You don't look exactly — excited,” remarked Jake, as 
he finally stuck his pipe into his mouth. 

She smiled, a cold, aloof smile, saying nothing. 

He lighted his pipe, his eyes still upon her. “Say, 
Maud,” he said, between the puffs, “why don't you come 
too?” 

She raised her beautiful brows a little at the question 
and slightly shrugged her shoulders. 

“You don’t want to?” pursued Jake. 

Her blue eyes met his for a single instant. They were 
dark and remote as a deep mountain tarn. “Not in the 
least, ” she said. 

He swung round with a jingle of spurs and came to the 
table by which she stood. 

“What if I wish you to come? ” he said. 

The faint, cold smile still drew her lips. She had begun 
already to arrange her flowers. 

“ Of course your wish is law, ” she said. 

He leaned towards her, laying an abrupt hand upon 
hers. “Maud!” he said. 

She became still on the instant, but she did not look at 
him or attempt to avoid the tobacco smoke that curled 
between them. 

“ Maud, ” he said again, and there was a hint of pleading 
in his voice, “why can’t you be friends with me? Surely 
I’m not all that hard to get on with!” 

She kept her eyes lowered. The pale composure of her 
face did not vary as she made reply. “ I am sorry if you are 
not satisfied. I thought you had got — all you wanted.” 

He pulled the pipe from his mouth and laid it on the 
table. “Do you thinlc any man is satisfied with husks?” 
he said. 


Husks 


303 


Her lip curled a little. She said nothing. 

He took her by the arms, not violently but with firm- 
I ness. “Maud,” he said, and there was urgency in his 
j voice, “where’s the use of behaving like this? Do 
, you think it’s going to make life easier, happier? Is it 
doing God’s work in the world to be always fighting 
I the inevitable? I’m rough, I know; but I’m white. 
Why can’t you take me as I am, and make the best of 
me?” 

He had never thus appealed to her before. She stood 
stiffly between his hands. But still she did not look at 
him. Her eyes were upon the flowers on the table that lay 
scorching and slowly shrivelling under his pipe. 

“I really don’t know what you want,” she said, in a 
tone of cold aloofness. 

“And don’t care!” said Jake, with sudden vehemence. 
“On my soul, I sometimes think to myself that if you 
treated Sheppard as you treat me, he had some reason for 
giving you a hiding.” 

Her eyelids quivered sharply at the rough allusion, but 
S she did not raise them. “You are rather — hard to please, ” 
^ she said, in a low voice. 

“Am I?” said Jake. “And do you ever try to please 
me by any chance?” 

A slight tremor went through her. “I give you sub- 
mission — obedience,” she said. “You have — all that you 
married me for.” 

“Have I?” said Jake. His voice was suddenly ironical. 
“Ah, my girl, you know a mighty lot about that, don’t 
you? And have I also your confidence, your goodwill, your 
— friendship? ” 

Her eyes flashed him a look of swift protest. “They 
were not a part of the bargain, ” she said. 

“Damn the bargain!” said Jake, with force. “If I 
didn’t want them, what did I want?” 


304 The Hundredth Chance 

Her eyes comprehended him and fell again. She said 
nothing. 

He held her by the shoulders and gave her a sharp shake 
as if to bring her to her senses. 

“P’raps you think I’m brutal,” he said. “But you 
treat me as I wouldn’t treat any brute in creation. Why 
do you never speak to me? Why do you never kiss me? 
On my oath, you starve me of all that’s good in life and yet 
expect me to remain civilized.” 

She made no attempt to free herself, nor did she utter 
remonstrance of any kind. If the grip of his hands hurt 
her, she did not show it. She stood in utter silence. 

Slowly Jake’s hold relaxed. The fierceness went out of 
it. He stood for a few seconds watching her, a deep frown 
between his brows. 

“I don’t seem able to get hold of you somehow, ” he said 
at length. “And yet it ain’t for want of trying. Say, 
Maud, can’t you be decent to me for a bit now the little 
chap is coming? He’ll notice, sure, if you’re not. Guess 
we don’t either of us want him pestering around with 
questions.” 

There was a species of half-grudging persuasion in his 
voice. He held her as though at the faintest sign of en- 
couragement he would have drawn her into his arms. 

But Maud made no such sign. She stood motionless. 
Without looking at him she spoke. 

“I can’t pretend to love you. You see, — I don’t.” 

He made a sharp gesture — such a gesture as a man 
might make if stabbed in the back. A very bitter look 
came into his eyes. It was as if an evil spirit looked gibing 
forth. They glittered like the red flare of a torch. 

“All right, my girl,” he said, and his voice was soft 
and slow and wholly without emotion. “Then I continue 
my meal of husks.” 

With the words he let her go, took up his pipe from the 


Husks 


305 


table, and left her. Mutely she watched him go. Then, 
as the sound of his footsteps died away, she sank on her 
knees by the table, burying her face upon the scorched 
and ruined flowers; and so she remained for a long, long 
time. 

Even the sympathy of Chops was lacking. He had 
followed his master and the dog-cart to the station to wel- 
come the visitor for whom such loving preparations had 
been made. And he was-being compelled to fly like the wind 
to keep pace with the flying wheels. 

20 


CHAPTER II 


THE POISON PLANT 


HE wheels of the dog-cart clattered back over the 



1 stone paving of the yard, and a wild whoop of wel- 
come echoed through the place. A small, boyish figure 
leapt impetuously to the ground to be caught and fast held 
in Maud’s straining arms. 

‘‘Hullo, Maud! Hullo, Maud!” cried Bunny. 

He hugged her none the less ardently, hugged and kissed 
her. They had not seen each other for three months. 

Maud’s greeting was quite inaudible ; she could only hold 
him passionately close, feeling the abounding activity of 
his light young frame, and realizing with a great throb of 
rej oicing that the miracle had been wrought indeed. Bunny 
had been made whole. 

‘‘I say, isn’t it fine?” the boy cried eagerly. “IVe been 
doing gymnastics and physical exercises to any amount. 
I can swim too, and Dr. Capper says I may learn to ride. 
Jake’s going to teach me, aren’t you, Jake? Oh, isn’t it 
fine, Maud? Isn’t it fine?” 

She held him a little from her, gazing at him fondly ere 
she gathered him close again. He was very slight and thin 
but he was taller than she had thought possible. The 
deep hollows about his eyes were far less marked than 
before, though his whole face bore that indelible stamp of 
suffering which had always made him older than his years. 

He gave her another hearty hug. ‘‘I’m as fit as a 


306 


The Poison Plant 


307 


fiddler,” he declared. “But I still have to do four hours 
flat on the floor every day. I told Jake I wasn’t going to 
do it any more, but he swears he’ll tie me down to the 
table-legs if I don’t. You’re a sport, aren’t you, Jake?” 

He left his sister abruptly to attach himself to Jake whose 
threats of violence were plainly a huge attraction to his 
boyish mind. 

J ake thrust an arm about the narrow shoulders. “We’ve 
got to make a man of you somehow, my son, ” he said. 
“And Capper is very emphatic about keeping up the 
treatment for another six weeks.” 

“Yes, and after that I’m going to school,” said Bunny, 
with the assurance of a man who holds the ruling of his own 
destiny. “There’s Fairhaven College up on the hill, 
Jake. That’ll do for me. And I’ll be a weekly boarder, 
and you’ll take me to races on Saturdays.” 

But Jake shook his head. “Not at your time of life, 

I young feller. No, when you go to school you’ll stay there. 
You’ve got to make up for lost time. P’raps in the holidays 
we’ll see. But I make no rash promises. Now, Mrs. 
Bolton, what about tea?” 

They went within to the meal prepared in the sunny 
. parlour with its door thrown open to the garden. 

They sat at the table, Bunny alert, excited, radiant; Jake 
cheery and indulgent, bestowing his exclusive attention 
[ upon him ; Maud, very quiet and reserved but watching the 
i' boy with eyes of shining affection that scarcely left him for 
^ a moment. 

: He had so much to tell them of this treatment and of 
1 that, how at the beginning of things he had found it so hard 
I to bear, and how the doctors had helped him through. 

I “They were so awfully decent,” he said. “There was 
l one of ’em— Dr. Wyndham, who was no end of a swell, 
i He used to come twice a week and put me through the 
j most ghastly drill that rolled me out quite flat. He made 


3o8 


The Hundredth Chance 


me think of you, Jake. He was such a chap for getting 
his own way. Somehow I never could get ratty with him, 
though I used to dread the sight of him for ever so long. 
He soon got to know it, and he’d sit down by my side, 
and talk in a reassuring sort of way till he’d worked me up 
to it. He seemed to have no end of time to waste, and yet 
he was always ready ; used to come in with his hands in his 
pockets and a funny smile on his face, and send the nurse 
packing because he knew I hated anyone looking on. I got 
to like him no end. You’d have liked him too, Maud. 
He was just our sort.” And there he stopped suddenly, 
for the first time gazing fully at her. “Great Scott!” he 
said. “ How queer you look I ” 

“I?” said Maud, slightly startled. 

Bunny was looking at her hard. He turned abruptly to 
Jake. “Why does she look like that? She hasn’t been 
ill, has she?” 

Jake’s eyes went to his wife’s face. He regarded her 
critically for a moment. 

But before he could speak Maud hastily broke in. 
“Bunny! How absurd! Of course not! I am never ill. 
Jake, pass up his cup!” 

He obeyed in silence, and she received it with a hand 
that trembled. Her face was burning. 

“You look better now,” said Bunny. “P’raps it’s the 
heat. How do you amuse yourself nowadays? Is Saltash 
at the Castle?” 

She shook her head. “No. He left on the same day 
that you did. I have scarcely seen him since.” 

“You have heard from him,” said Jake, in the tone of 
one making a casual statement. 

She was silent for a second or two while she poured out 
Bunny’s tea; then, without lifting her eyes, “Yes,” she 
said. “I have heard from him.” 

“Where is he?” asked Bunny. “Does he write often?” 


The Poison Plant 


309 


Not often/* said Maud. She suddenly looked across 
at Jake with eyes that seemed to fling a challenge. ‘‘I 
expect you know where he is,” she said. 

‘‘He is in town,’* said Jake. 

He met her look with the utmost deliberation, and almost 
at once she looked away. 

‘‘I expect he’ll be going to Scotland next month,” said 
Bunny. ‘‘But I hope he’ll come here first. I’d like to 
see him. Aren’t there some big races at Gray down soon, 
Jake? Won’t he come for them?” 

“I can’t say what he’ll do,” said Jake, pulling out his 
pipe. “The Burchester Cup will be run in a fortnight.” 

“Oh, Jake, old chap, do — do let me see that!” urged 
Bunny, with shining eyes. “Is the Mascot going to run 
again?” 

“No, not the Mascot this time, — the Albatross. You 
remember him ? Reckon he ought to carry it off if his j ockey 
is good enough.” Jake spoke with something of a frown. 

Bunny was all eagerness. “The Albatross! Wa.sn’t 
he the chap you were forcing into the water that day you 
flrst spoke to us? Yes, I remember him, of course — a 
beauty. Who’s up, Jake? Isn’t he any good?” 

“ I wanted Vickers to ride him, ” Jake said. “He’s been 
training. But he has just broken his thumb, confound 
him. That leaves it to Dick Stevens, and I don’t feel just 
sure of him. He may pull it off; but he’s not like Sam 
Vickers. The animals haven’t the same faith in him, — 
any more than I have.” 

He got up from the table as he spoke, and went to the 
mantelpiece for a match. Bunny gulped down his tea 
and sprang up also. 

“Say, Jake, I’m coming round the Stables with you,” he 
said. “I won’t be in the way.” 

Jake, his clay pipe between his teeth, puffed forth a 
cloud of smoke, and turned. “Not to-night, my son. 


310 


The Hundredth Chance 


YouVe got another two hours’ floor-drill before you. You 
go and do it!” 

Bunny’s face fell. ‘*0h, damn it, Jake! Not to- 
night!” 

Jake’s hand shot forth and grasped his shoulder. “Who 
taught you to say that?” he demanded. 

Bunny stared. “I don’t know. Lots of fellows say it. 
Charlie often does.” 

“I do myself,” said Jake grimly. “But you’re not to, 
savvy? I mean it. It ain’t a mite clever, my son. It’s 
beastly ugly. And you — you’ve got to be a gentleman if 
you do live under the roof of a bounder. Now you go and 
do as you’re told, quick march ! I shall know if you don’t, 
and I shall know the reason why too. Take him upstairs, 
Maud; and if he don’t behave himself, undress him and put 
him to bed!” 

He would have gone with the words, but Bunny with a 
red face stayed him. “I’ll do as you tell me, Jake,” he 
said, “but I won’t be managed by anyone else. And I’m 
not a bit afraid of you. See?” 

Jake stopped, and the old kind smile that once had been 
so much more frequent lighted his face. “That’s right, 
little pard; you’ve no call to be,” he said. “But I won’t 
have it said that you were brought up in a stable. And 
I won’t have you hanging around with the boys in the 
yard either. Our language is not your language, and 
you’re not to learn it. Now go and do your duty! I’ll 
take you round the Stables to-morrow.” 

He bestowed a kindly pat upon Bunny’s shoulder, and 
departed. 

Bunny tinned round to Maud. “What’s the matter 
with him?” he said. 

She sat with her face to the window, her eyes fixed 
unseeingly upon the sunlit garden. “Nothing that I know 
of,” she said, without moving. 


The Poison Plant 


311 

Bunny came to her side. “But, Maud, he isn’t always 
like that, at least he used not to be.” 

“Like what?” she said. 

Bunny was looking at her hard. “You used not to be 
like this either,” he said. “What’s happened to you 
both?” 

She gave herself a sharp shake — it was almost like a 
shudder suppressed — and came out of her reverie. She 
met Bunny’s questioning eyes with a smile. 

“My dear boy, nothing has happened. Don’t look so 
suspicious! There! Come and let me look at you! Do 
you know I hardly know you? You seem so young.” 

Bunny pushed an arm about her neck, and gave the kiss 
for which she yearned. “You look years older than you 
did,” he said, with brotherly candour. “I thought you’d 
get on like a house on fire when you hadn’t me to worry 
you, but you look more down in the mouth than ever.” 

“I shan’t now I’ve got you,” she whispered, clinging to 
him. “ I’ve missed you — horribly, dear.” 

“I thought you would,” said Bunny with complacence. 
“I missed you too at first. When they gave me that 
beastly massage, I used to howl for you.” 

“Was it so terribly bad?” she murmured, holding him 
faster. 

‘ ‘ It was — unspeakable, ” said Bunny. “ I shouldn’t have 
stuck to it if you’d been there. As it was, — well, I couldn’t 
help myself. But they were awfully kind too. No one 
ever pitched into me for behaving badly. They all seemed 
to take it for granted that I should. And when I began to 
get better, they were so jolly encouraging. But I’d rather 
be flogged every day for a year,” ended Bunny, “than 
go through it all again.” 

“Dr. Capper didn’t tell me it would be so bad,” said 
Maud. 

“No. Capper’s a deep one. He didn’t tell me either. 


312 


The Hundredth Chance 


He laughs about it now, said Bunny, “and says the end 
has fully justified the means. He’s rather a card, but he’s 
a fine chap. He is coming to see us before he leaves Eng- 
land. I made him promise. He’ll be off before the end 
of August, ” Bunny stretched himself luxuriously. “ How’s 
the mother getting on?” he enquired. 

“I haven’t seen her for quite a long time. I believe she 
is very busy, ” Maud said. “ They have discharged some of 
the servants at ‘The Anchor.’ I don’t believe it answers. 
She was looking rather worried the last time we met. But 
she didn’t tell me anything, except that times were bad.” 

“They always are with some people,” said Bunny. “I ' 
suppose Jake is quite prosperous, is he?” 

“Oh, quite, I think, ” she said in surprise. “ Of course he 
is Charlie’s paid man. Why do you ask?’ 

“He looks a bit bothered,” said Bunny. “P’raps it 
isn’t that though. Come along! Let’s go upstairs!” 

He twined his arm in hers. They went up side by side. 

A little later they separated, and Maud went to her own 
room. Down in the training-field below the orchard a 
solitary horseman was riding a young, untamed animal that 
fought savagely against his mastery, striving by every 
conceivable artifice to unseat him. She paused at the 
casement window and watched the struggle, marked the 
man’s calm assurance, his inflexible strength of purpose, 
his ruthless self-assertion. And, as she watched, that evil 
thing that she nourished in her heart opened its first poison- 
ous flowers and bloomed in rank profusion. She hoped 
with a sickening intensity that the animal would win the 
day, and that Jake Bolton would be killed. 


CHAPTER III 


CONFIDENCES 

T hree days after Bunny’s return, Maud drove him 
down in the dog-cart one afternoon to see their 
mother. She herself would not go into the Anchor Hotel. 

■ She had never entered it since that bitter day in the winter 
when she had thrown herself upon Jake’s protection, nor 
had she exchanged a single word with her step-father since 
her wedding-day. 

Her mother seemed to have grown completely away from 
them, and would seldom be persuaded to visit her daughter 
even though Jake himself offered to fetch her. She had 
become fretful and irritable, and was in a certain measure 
vexed with Maud who had not apparently made the most 
of her opportunities. There was no denying the fact that 
they were drifting further and further apart, and to neither 
of them did the other’s presence afford the smallest pleasure. 
Now that Lord Saltash had quitted the scene, Mrs. Shep- 
pard took no further interest in her daughter’s doings. 
She strongly suspected that it was in response to Maud’s 
insistence that he had gone, and she was inclined to regard 
his absence as a personal grievance against her in conse- 
quence. Emphatically, Mrs. Sheppard was not improved 
by adversity. Her looks were fading, and her placid 
temperament had vanished. Giles was such a trial, life 
was so difficult. She had always acted for the best, but 
she never reaped any benefit therefrom. In fact. Fate 

313 


314 


The Hundredth Chance 


had never been kind to her, and she was beginning to 
cherish a grudge in consequence. 

Bunny was by no means anxious to pay her a visit; it 
was only by Jake’s commands that he went. Maud was 
a little surprised to find that he was developing a scrupulous 
regard for Jake’s wishes. She drove the dog-cart into the 
stable-yard of “The Anchor” and left it there with a 
promise to return for him in an hour. Then she herself 
wandered down to the shore to pass the time. 

The day was sultry with a brooding heat. The sea lay 
wrapped in mist like a steaming sheet of molten lead. 
There was no sound of waves ; only now and then the wailing 
cry of a sea-gull floated across the water, and some- 
times there throbbed upon the heavy air the paddle of 
an unseen steamer beating through that silent waste of 
greyness. 

She had no sunshade, and the glare was intense, albeit 
the sun was veiled. Half-mechanically she turned her 
steps towards the shelter in which — how long ago! — Jake 
had made his astounding proposal of marriage. She felt 
miserable, depressed, sick at heart. The close weather did 
not agree with her. She was limp and listless, and she 
could neither eat nor sleep. 

She dropped wearily down upon the seat and leaned 
back with her eyes half-closed. Her head was aching 
dully, as if a heavy weight pressed upon it. 

There was no one in sight. That end of the parade was 
little frequented. The gay crowd preferred the vicinity 
of the bathing-machines where a little troupe of Pierrots 
were making merry. Now and then the raucous voice of 
the funny man of the party reached her, but it was too far 
away to disturb her. She was thankful for the attraction 
that kept the people away. 

Chops lay at her feet, snapping at the flies, grave, sym- 
pathetic, watchful. He was feeling the heat too, but he 


Confidences 


315 


took it philosophically, with the wisdom of experience. 
He knew better than to chafe at the inevitable. 

Half-an-hour crawled away thus in dumb oppression 
while the atmosphere grew imperceptibly thicker, gradually 
j extinguishing the sun-rays, darkening the world. At 
length a long ridge rose with ghostly suddenness on that 
I flat desert of waters and swept shorewards, bursting upon 
I the beach with a startling roar. 

Maud started and opened her eyes. In a moment she 
i was on her feet, dismayed, irresolute. One glance at the 
' ominous sky and sullen, glassy water told her that a storm 
was imminent. She could not stay in that exposed place. 

; She would not contemplate taking refuge at ‘ ‘ The Anchor. ” 

! Whither could she go? 

! She began to walk swiftly along the parade. Chops 
; pacing sedately behind. The Pierrots were gone, the 
i crowd scattered. She was sure that in a few moments 
there would be a terrific downpour. 

Another long swell showed like the back of a swift- 
moving monster on the face of the waters. It travelled 
landwards with incredible rapidity; it burst in thunder 
just below her. A great swirl 'of surf rushed up to the 
wall and receded to rejoin the inky water. And suddenly 
the blast of the storm caught her. 

Almost before she realized it, she was fleeing before it 
down the deserted road. Eddies of dust rose up under her 
feet, and sand whipped up from the beach stung her face. 
She raced the tempest, making for the nearest side-road to 
escape the unbroken fury with which it raged along the shore. 

As she tore across to the sheltering houses there came a 
blinding flash of lightning, and instantly overhead a splitting 
explosion that seemed to shatter the whole world. For a 
second or two she was checked in her wild career. She felt 
stunned. Then in a sweeping torrent the rain was upon 
her, and she stumbled towards the nearest doorway. 


The Hundredth Chance 


316 

Before she reached it, however, a voice called to her, a 
stout figure came running forth with amazing lightness, 
and two plump hands seized one of hers. 

“Come in, my dear, come in!” panted a wheezy voice. 
“Why, whatever brought you out in such a storm? You 
look scared to death. Come and sit down in my back 
parlour behind the shop! It's all right, dearie, all right. 
Don’t be upset!” 

Gasping and unnerved, Maud tottered into the little 
shop, groping, clinging to her guide. The gloom without 
made almost impenetrable darkness within. She had not 
the faintest idea as to whither she was being led. But 
there was no hesitation about her companion. She 
pressed her forward till a glimmer of light revealed a window 
in a dingy little room beyond the shop, and here she de- 
posited her with friendly firmness upon a horse-hair sofa, 
making her lean against a cushion sewn with beads while 
she recovered her breath. * 

“Don’t you be frightened any more, my dear!” she 
admonished her. “You’re quite safe. Trust the dear 
Lord for that ! The wind and storm are only fulfilling His 
Will. Poor child, you’re all of a tremble! There, let’s 
take your hat off! And I’ll get you a cup of tea, dear. 
You’ll be better then.” 

Tenderly she removed the hat while Maud, panting and 
spent, lay limply against the cushion. Chops sat pressed 
against her, his silken head on her knee. 

“Why, look at him! It’s just as if he’s trying to tell 
you not to take on,” said her rescuer. “There’s a deal of 
soul in a dog, I always say. Now you know who I am, !Mrs. 
Bolton, my dear, don’t you? You don’t feel as if you’re 
taking shelter with a stranger?” 

“You are — Mrs. Wright,” Maud said, speaking with an 
effort. 

“That s right, my dear. I felt sure you’d remember me. 


Confidences 


317 


r Now will you be quite comfortable if I run into the kitchen 
I and make the tea? Or will you come along with me? I 
: often think company is a good thing in a storm.” 
i Maud was recovering herself. She sat up with something 
of her usual quiet demeanour, though her heart was still 
beating unpleasantly fast. Please don’t trouble to get 
any tea for me! ” she said. ^‘If I may stay till the worst is 
I over, I shall be very grateful. But I must go directly it gets 
better. My brother is waiting for me at ‘The Anchor.’ ” 

Another terrible flash pierced the gloom, and she shrank 
involuntarily, one hand covering her face while the thunder 
: crashed above them with a force that shook the house. 

As the dreadful echoes died away, she awoke to the fact 
that Mrs. Wright was kneeling stoutly beside her, one kindly 
arm pressing her close. 

“ It’s all right, darling. Don’t shiver so I ” she murmured 
maternally. “We’re quite safe in the Lord’s good keeping. 
He won’t let us be harmed if we trust in Him.” 

Maud made a slight gesture as though she would with- 
draw herself, and then the comfort of that motherly arm 
overcame her shyness. Very suddenly she let herself go 
into the old woman’s embrace. She hid her face on the 
ample shoulder. 

“I’m not really frightened,” she whispered piteously. 
“But oh, I’m so tired — I’m so tired!” 

“Poor lamb!” said Mrs. Wright compassionately. 

She gathered her to her bosom rocking her softly in her 
arms as one who soothes a hurt child, and whispering 
endearing words from time to time, while Maud, spent and 
weary, wept silently there till with the shedding of tears 
some measure of relief came to her aching soul. 

She forgot the storm that raged around them; she forgot 
that Mrs. Wright was a comparative stranger to her; she 
forgot the passage of time and all besides in the blessed 
consciousness of another woman’s sympathy compassing 


The Hundredth Chance 


318 

her round, sustaining, comprehending, lifting her up from 
the depths of despair into which she had lately sunk so 
low. 

“There then! There! You’re better now,” murmured 
Mrs. Wright at last. “Would you like to talk a bit, 
darling? Or shall we just pretend as there’s nothing to 
talk about? ” 

But Maud was clinging to her, as a drowning person 
clings to a spar. “You’re very good to me, ” she whispered 
tremulously. 

It was enough for Mrs. Wright. She proceeded with 
boldness. “It didn’t become me to take the first step, 
dearie, you being a lady like you are, and me only a clumsy 
old woman. But I’ve had troubles myself, and I’m not 
blind. You aren’t well, dear; you aren’t happy. I was 
afraid that day in the winter, and I’ve been much more 
afraid since. I was wanting to step up and see you again ; 
but then I wasn’t sure as you ’d want me. But I’ve thought 
of you often and often, and poor Jake too.” 

Maud shivered. “Life is horrible — horrible!” she said, 
and there was a quiver of passion in the words. 

“Ah, dear!” Mrs. Wright held her closer. “Maybe 
that’s because you’re not taking things just as you should. 
No, I don’t suppose as it’s your fault. I wouldn’t presume. 
But there’s ways and ways of looking at things. And 
sometimes, when a girl is hurried into marrying, like you 
were, she’s likely to be a bit taken aback when she comes to 
realize what it means. And it is then maybe that she gets a 
wrong impression of men and their ways which is like to 
interfere with all happiness. But, you know, dearie, men 
are only a pack of children. Any woman can manage 
a man if she puts her mind to it, and he’ll like her the better 
for it too. But if once a man gets the whip-hand, and 
knows it, that’s fatal. A spoilt child soon becomes a 
tyrant.” 


Confidences 


319 


“Jake is no child!” Low and bitter the words came; 
I Maud’s face was buried deep in her new friend’s shoulder. 

'‘He is nothing but — a brute!” 

I “Lord love me!” ejaculated Mrs. Wright. And then 
: very tenderly her hand began to smooth the girl’s tumbled 
hair. “Has he been — that — to you?” she said. “Ah, 
j dear, dear, dear! And what’s going to happen, I wonder, 
when he knows what you’re going to give him? No, don’t 
; shrink, darling! There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Would 
I you be ashamed if God sent an angel to lay a baby in your 
I arms? For it’s just that, darling. It is His gift. Aren’t 
: you going to thank Him for it? The first is so much the 
I most wonderful. Think, dear, think of the little wee thing 
that will cling to you, cry to you, depend on only you!” 

Maud was shivering violently. She did not lift her head 
or speak. 

Mrs. Wright’s hand did not cease to caress and soothe. 
“I am right, dear, am I?” she asked softly. 

And Maud’s silence answered her. 

Thereafter there came an interval during which the loud 
patter of the rain was the only sound. Maud’s tears had 
ceased. She sat bowed upon the old woman’s breast as 
though she lacked the strength to lift herself. 

But presently, without moving, she spoke. “I suppose I 
am very wicked; but I don’t feel like — that about it. I 
can’t. I don’t want it. You’ll be dreadfully shocked, 
I’m afraid. I’ve never spoken my mind to anyone before. 
But — the fact is — I’ve never felt really married to Jake. 
I don’t in my heart belong to him. And that makes every- 
thing wrong.” 

“My dear! My dear!” said Mrs. Wright. “But he is 
your husband all the same. And you — you are the one 
woman in the world to him. He loves you as his own 
soul.” 

Maud shook her head hopelessly. “Oh no, indeed he 


320 


The Hundredth Chance 


doesn’t! He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. If he 
did — things would be very different.” 

“Dear heart, that’s just where you go wrong— the 
beginning and end of the whole trouble,” declared Mrs. 
Wright. “I knew he loved you that night last year at 
your mother’s wedding-party. Why, it was shining in his 
eyes for all to see. Was he such a dunderhead then that he 
never told you so?” 

But at that Maud raised herself. She met the old 
woman’s eyes in the gloom, her own heavy with bitterness. 

“ Mrs. Wright, that was not love, ” she said, “or anything 
approaching to love.” She paused a moment, as though 
the tragic words had cost her all her strength ; then piteously 
she ended, “He told me he had a fancy for me; that was all. 
So for Bunny’s sake — and partly for my own — I married 
him. And now I am the slave of that fancy.” 

“Oh dear, dear, dear!” Mrs, Wright said again. “And 
has he never made love to you at all? What a silly fellow, 
to be sure! Men don’t know anything; upon my word, 
they don’t!” 

“I didn’t like his methods of making love.” Maud 
spoke with growing bitterness. “And I never suffered 
them. Oh yes, I have to endure them now. He takes 
whatever he wants. But every spark of affection or respect 
that I ever had for him went out one night in the winter when 
he came home the worse for drink.” 

“Sakes alive!” exclaimed Mrs. Wright. “Not Jake!” 

“Yes, Jake.” Maud spoke with tragii vehemence. “I 
saw him, and so did Charlie. We both knew it.” 

“Who is Charlie?” questioned Mrs. Wright. 

A faint tinge of colour rose in the girl’s pale face. “ Lord 
Saltash. He is an old family friend of ours. He was 
always Charlie Burchester to us in the old days.” 

“And he told you Jake was drunk?” demanded Mrs. 
Wright, with round, indignant eyes. 


Confidences 


321 


Maud made a gesture of weary indifference. *‘He didn’t 
f actually tell me so. I think he didn’t want me to know. 
; But he couldn’t deny it when I put it to him.” 

'‘Then, my dear, he was very grievously mistaken,” 
! declared Mrs. V/right, with stout emphasis. “Jake was 
: not drunk. He never drinks. Why, look at the man! 
His eyes are as clear as the day. Oh, believe me, dear, 
you’ve wronged him. You’ve wronged him cruelly. 
And that’s maybe what’s brought about all your trouble. 
For men can’t put up with injustice. It’s the one thing 
they can’t abide, and I don’t blame ’em.” 

She paused. Maud was listening, but not as one con- 
vinced, or even greatly interested. 

“It doesn’t really alter anything, whether it’s true or 
not,” she said. “I had begun even before that to know 
what sort of a man he was. I heard him using the most 
appalling language one day. That opened my eyes.” 

"Not to you, dear, surely?” urged Mrs. Wright, looking 
momentarily shocked. 

"Oh no, not to me. I overheard it accidentally. But,” 
Maud shivered again, “I’ve never forgotten it. Some- 
times the memory of it turns me nestrly sick!” 

"Oh, dearie me! V/hat a pity! What a pity! And he 
loving you so!” Mrs. Wright put up a very tender hand, 
and stroked her cheek. “Poor little hurt princess!” she 
said. "If I could' but open your eyes and show you how 
much true love there is behind his roughness! You’ll 
see it some day. I’m sure of that. Please God some day 
quite soon! You’re tired and heart-sick now, dear. But 
that’ll get better as time goes on. And if you’ll take an 
old woman’s advice, you’ll tell him soon of the little one 
that’s coming. It’ll maybe make all the difference to you 
both.” 

But Maud drew back sharply at the bare suggestion. " I 
couldn’t possibly tell him yet. I — I couldn’t tell anyone.” 


21 


322 


The Hundredth Chance 


Mrs. Wright looked at her with eyes of motherly wisdom, 
“You’ll feel difiEerent— presently, ’’ she said. “I know, 
dear, I know.” 

“You don’t know! You can’t know!” Maud’s voice 
was strangled. She seemed to be striving for self-control. 

“I do know.” Very firmly Mrs. Wright made the 
assertion. “Just you listen a minute, dearie, and I’ll tell 
you something that I’ve never told to mortal being before. 
I’m only just an ordinary old woman; but I am a woman, 
and I know what it means to — love the wrong man.” She 
spoke impressively, but she did not seem to notice Maud’s 
quick start. “When I was a girl, I was something of a 
belle. It seems funny now, don’t it? But I attracted the 
attention of a good many young men, and I got a bit 
uppish in consequence. My poor Tom was the best of the 
bunch, and I always knew it, though I led him a fine dance 
before we came to walking out together. And then a 
young doctor’s assistant came to the place, and — well, 
I’ll not deny it now — we was both young and a bit flighty. 
We got larking together on them roundabouts one night 
at a fair, and after that we took to meeting one another on 
the sly, till, to cut it short, I fell in love with him — very 
badly in love. I ought to have known better, of course, for 
gentlemen like him don’t marry little farmers’ daughters 
like me. But I was young and inexperienced, and I thought 
his intentions were honest, till one night I found as they 
weren’t. I’ve never ceased to thank the Almighty that 
I had the strength to send him about his business then and 
there. And I got engaged to Tom the following Sunday, 
and tried to forget it all. I wasn’t in love with him, but 
I knew he was a good sort; and the match pleased my 
people who weren’t too well-to-do. Well, I thought I was 
going to be happy in a home of my own, and I let everything 
be arranged, and I deceived m^^self into thinking that it 
was going to be all right. And then — when the wedding 


Confidences 


323 


was over — I felt, quite sudden-like, sick, just sick, to think 
what I’d done. I didn’t let on to Tom. He was such a 
good, solid man. I’d have died of shame if I had. I 
didn’t let on to anybody. But I was that miserable. 
There were times, on and off, when I almost hated him. 
And then — well, then — I began to have hopes. It didn’t 
help me a bit at first, but gradually, very gradually, the 
thought of poor Tom’s baby purified me. And when I’d 
come through my trouble and little Tom was born, I felt 
as if I had been born again too, and all my regrets were 
gone. I never had ’em any more, dear, after that. And 
I got that fond of poor Tom, he never guessed. I thank 
the Almighty he didn’t, for the morning as he died he told 
me so simple-like that I’d been the sunshine of his life 
from the very first day he ever met me.” Mrs. Wright 
paused to wipe her eyes. “Poor Tom! I was never good 
enough for him,” she said. “Pie was such a good, kind 
soul, and — luckily for me — he never saw an inch beyond 
his nose.” 

She got up with the words, dismissing the subject with 
practical common sense. 

“Now I’m going to get you some tea, dear, and by that 
time it’ll have left off raining. See! It’s getting lighter 
already. I’m so glad you came this way. Maybe, you’ll 
come again now, and if there’s ever anything I can do, why, 
you’ve only to let me know, and it’s as good as done.” 

She bent, in response to Maud’s silent gesture, and 
kissed her tenderly. “Try not to fret any more, darling! 
Everything will come right. I’m sure of it. I know Jake 
so well. You only know the rough side of him at present. 
There’s a whole lot of reserve in Jake. He won’t show you 
his heart so long as he thinks you’ve no use for it. Maybe, 
he’s shy too. I’ve sometimes thought so.” 

Maud turned from the subject with a sigh. In some 
subtle fashion old Plrs. Wright’s confidences had helped her. 


324 


The Hundredth Chance 


but she felt as if the matter would not bear further discus- 
sion. “ I shall never forget your kindness, ” she said rather 
wistfully. “ I wish I had come to see you long ago. I did 
mean to. And then there came Bunny’s operation; and 
after that — after that — I felt too miserable.” 

Mrs. Wright shook her head in gentle chiding. “ Don’t 
ever again stay away on that account, dear!” she said. 
^‘And do you know I’ve got a feeling that maybe he is 
miserable too? Why don’t you try a little kindness, my 
dear? Do now! It’s wonderful what a difference to sore 
hearts a little kindness makes.” 

She bustled away with the words. She also knew that 
for the moment there was no more to be said. Yet there 
was a smile on her face as she closed the door — a wise, 
mother-smile that turned its plainness into beauty. 

“Poor children!” she murmured to herself. “They’ll 
find each other some day. And then — dear Lord — how 
happy they’ll be!” 

She permitted herself a little chuckle as she set the 
kettle to boil. Things always came right in the end. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE LETTER 

M aud drove home with Bunny after the storm through 
an atmosphere washed clean of cloud and golden 
with evening sunshine. She found him very silent, and 
concluded that he had not greatly enjoyed himself. 

She asked few questions about his visit, and Bunny did 
not seem inclined to volunteer anything, till as they reined 
in to a walk at the steep hill by the church, he turned 
abruptly towards her and spoke. 

“ I told the mother you were corresponding with Saltash.” 
Maud started a little. “Really, Bunny!” she said, in a 
tone of protest. 

Bunny’s face was red. He looked at her with a species of 
dogged defiance. “ I didn’t mean to tell her. It just came 
out. I don’t see why she shouldn’t know anyway. Jake 
knows.” 

“There is not the faintest reason.” Maud’s tone was 
cold. She stared straight between the horse’s ears with eyes 
that were fixed and hard. “I don’t see why it should 
interest her, that’s all. Charlie is such an old friend that 
surely there is nothing very surprising about it.” 

“Or anything to get ratty about,” said Bunny, with a 
touch of warmth. “That wasn’t what I set out to tell 
you; but you do jump down a fellow’s throat so. Of course 
the mother didn’t see anything in it. Why should she?” 
“What were you going to tell me?” Maud’s voice 
325 


326 


The Hundredth Chance 


Still sounded cold but she forced herself to smile. She had 
no desire to give offence to Bunny who was not always 
easy to conciliate. 

Bunny considered a moment. “‘Well, it has to do with 
Charlie. You know, he owns ‘The Anchor.’ ” 

Maud’s attitude relaxed. She turned towards him. 
“Yes, I know he does. He holds the mortgage, at least.” 

“Yes, that’s it; the mortgage.” Bunny’s face wore a 
troubled frown. ‘ ‘ Well, it seems that the place isn’t answer- 
ing and they can’t go on paying interest. In fact, they are 
badly in arrears already, and he — or his agent — is tightening 
the reins and threatening to sell them up. The mother is 
pretty desperate about it, but she was very particular that 
I wasn’t to tell anybody but you. She says it means 
ruin, and no one can prevent it but Charlie — unless someone 
came along with a little money, which is the last thing 
likely to happen. She wants j^ou to get hold of Charlie; 
says he will do anything for you, though I don’t know how 
she knows that. In fact, she went on as if it was a matter 
of life and death. Say, Maud, do you really think they 
are going to be ruined? What would happen if they 
were?” 

Bunny looked at her with worried eyes. Evidently Mrs. 
Sheppard had succeeded in impressing him with the urgency 
of the situation. 

Maud shook her head. She had not the least idea. 
“How much money do they want to tide them over?” 
she asked. 

“Rather a lot,” said Bunny uneasily. “Four hundred 
pounds at least, she said. I suppose it would be no good to 
write to Uncle Edward? He wouldn’t do it for the mother, 
I know, but he might for you.” 

“I couldn’t ask him,” Maud said. “I might if it were 
for you or myself. But not for Mother. I am sure he 
wouldn’t do it.” 


The Letter 


327 

“It’s a beastly mess,” said Bunny gloomily. “You’ll 
have to get round Charlie, there’s no other way.” 

“I must think,” Maud said. 

They reached the top of the hill, and she shook the 
reins. In sober silence they trotted home. 

Jake was in the yard when they turned in. He came to 
meet them. 

“I’ve had a fine scare about you,” he said, as he helped 
Bunny to descend. ‘ ‘ Were you caught in the storm ? ” 

Sam Vickers came to the horse’s head, and Maud followed 
her brother down. Jake did not offer to assist her. He was 
wearing neither coat nor waistcoat, only a white canvas 
shirt with rolled up sleeves, unbuttoned at the neck and 
displaying a good deal of brawny chest. His clay pipe 
was between his teeth, and the pungent scent of his tobacco 
seemed even more nauseating than usual. 

“No, we weren’t caught, ” Bunny made answer. “ I was 
at ‘The Anchor,' and Maud took refuge with that old 
Wright woman who came here in the winter.” 

“What? Old Mother Wright?” Jake turned to his 
wife with a smile of approval. “Been having tea with her, 
have you? I’m real pleased to hear it. You couldn’t be 
in better company.” 

Maud stiffened a little. Somehow his approval nettled 
her. “I took the first shelter within reach,” she suid 
coldly. 

Bunny stared at her as though astonished at something 
in her tone. Sharply Jake turned on him. 

“You trot in, my son, and do your floor-drill ! ” he said. 
“You’ve got just two hours before supper.” 

Bunny coloured and flung away. “Oh, damn!” he said. 

He was on the step with Maud immediately behind him 
when Jake’s voice arrested him. “ Bunny 1 ” 

It was a perfectly quiet voice, but it was the voice of 
authority. Bunny stopped short. “Well?” 


328 The Hundredth Chance 

“You will do an extra half-hour for that after supper,’' 
Jake said. 

Bunny faced round, his face crimson. “Oh, I say, Jake! 
That’s too bad. I didn’t mean to say it, and anyway I 
can’t do any extra time. It’s beastly enough as it is.” 

“I have said it,” remarked Jake. 

Bunny clenched his hands. “Dash it all, you can’t 
make me!” he said, his voice low and defiant. 

“No, no, you can’t!” Impulsively Maud broke in, her 
hand through Bunny’s arm. “It’s ridiculous and tyranni- 
cal. I won’t have him bullied, Jake. You are to leave 
him alone.” 

She spoke with vehemence, carried away by a gust of 
indignation. But the moment she had spoken, she realized 
that she had made a mistake. 

Jake said nothing whatever. He did not so much as 
look at her. But he did look at Bunny hard and straight, 
and in a moment the boy’s attitude changed. 

He unclenched his hands with a gesture half-shamed, half- 
deprecatory. “All right, Jake,” he said, in a tone of 
sullen submission; and to his sister curtly, “Shut up, Maud ! 
You always make a mess of things.” 

With the words he pulled himself from her hold and went 
within. 

She turned to follow him upstairs, but was checked by 
the knowledge that Jake was entering the house behind 
her. 

He did not speak, but it was certainly not of her own 
free will that she passed on to the parlour instead. Angry 
as she was, she yet would have avoided the encoimter had 
it been possible. 

It was not possible. Jake followed her, grim as Fate, 
and in desperation she turned and faced him the moment 
she was in the room. 

“Jake,” she said, in a voice that quivered in spite of 


The Letter 


329 

her, “I can’t have you interfering with Bunny — punishing 
him — like this. It’s too much.” 

Jake closed the door and stood against it. The sheer 
brute strength of the man had never been more forcibly 
apparent to her than at that moment; the thick, powerful 
neck and broad chest, the red-brown, lynx-like eyes, the 
merciless mouth, all seemed to mock her openly, exulting 
over her, dominating her. 

Like Bunny she clenched her hands, meeting the straight 
gaze of those glittering eyes with the defiance born of 
conscious impotence. ‘ ‘ And another thing ! ’ ’ she said. * ‘ I 
wish you wouldn’t come into the house in that horrible 
wild West attire. You look worse than any stable-hand. 
I don’t know how you can expect Bunny to be civilized with 
such an example before him.” 

She paused a moment, but, as he said nothing, rushed 
blindly on, finding silence intolerable. 

“You come in at all hours in the day with your horrible 
clay pipe and vile tobacco. Y ou behave like a farm labourer ; 
you use hateful language to the men; and still you take it 
upon you to — to mete out punishment to Bunny, because 
he has picked up, doubtless from you, an expression that is 
a household word in your daily life!” 

She stopped, for Jake had made an abrupt movement 
as if her fierce words had somehow pierced a joint in his 
armour. 

He came squarely forward, took his pipe from his mouth 
and knocked out the half-burned contents into the grate. 
She turned to watch him, feeling her heart racing like a 
runaway engine. And, so turning, her eyes fell upon a 
letter that lay upon the table. She could not read the 
address, but in a flash she recognized the handwriting, and 
suddenly the mad racing of her heart died down, so that 
it did not seem to be beating at all. 

Swiftly, while Jake was still intent upon his pipe, she 


330 


The Hundredth Chance 


reached across the table and picked up the letter. Her 
fingers felt the crest on the back of the envelope as she 
slipped it into her dress. She had fallen into the habit 
of walking to meet the postman of late, but to-day the 
storm had made her miss him. She hoped — earnestly 
she hoped — that Jake had not chanced to see the letter. 
She was sure his eyes had not rested upon the table. 

Her heart began to beat again with great leaps as Jake 
turned from the fireplace. She felt as if she had over- 
taxed her strength in opposing him, and yet now that she 
had begun she must go on, — she must 1 

But still he did not speak, and, fascinated, she stood 
and watched him, saw him thrust the offending pipe deep 
into his breeches pocket, unroll the sleeves of his shirt, and 
button it at the neck. 

Then at last he came and stood before her and spoke. 
^‘I’m sorry I’ve offended you, ” he said. 

The words were so utterly unexpected that Maud literally 
gasped. She drew back before hirn as if he had threatened 
her. There was something about him at that moment 
that made her feel infinitesimally small and mean. She 
stood silent, dismayed, ashamed. 

Jake was looking straight at her with a steady intentness 
that seemed to search and search her soul. There was no 
anger in his face. She almost wished there had been. 

He waited for her to speak, but as she did not, broke the 
silence again himself. ‘‘I know my ways are not exactly 
polished. I’ll try and mend ’em. As for my language, 
I didn’t know you had ever heard me in full swing. You 
were never meant to, anyway. As for Bunny, I guess he’s 
your brother, and you’ve a right to stick up for him if 
you think he needs it. But I give you my word of honour — 
my oath if you like — that he’ll never be one cent the worse 
for anything I may do to him. You can tell him from m.e 
that if he don’t do that extra half-hour, I shan’t say a word.” 


The Letter 


331 


Maud’s lips quivered. She strove for dignity in the 
face of overwhelming defeat. He had beaten her as it 
were with his hands behind him. “He won’t take it from 
me, ” she said. “You know that quite well.” 

“That so?” said Jake. “Well, I reckon he’d better go 
through with it then. It won’t hurt him. It’ll do him 
good.” He paused a moment, then, “Are you still feeling 
mad with me?” he asked. \ 

Her eyes fell before his. She did not understand his 
tone. It held a note of gentleness which she had not 
heard since the day of Bunny’s operation. It was almost 
as if he were pleading with her, striving to pierce through her 
resentment. She found it very difficult to reply. 

“I — don’t want to quarrel with you, Jake,” she said 
at last, with an effort. 

Jake’s intent look deepened, became for a moment 
almost intolerable. Then it passed. He even faintly 
smiled, albeit his smile had a touch of irony. “All right, 
my girl,” he said. “Don’t you worry any about that! 
I like you for being open with me. It’s an almighty mistake 
to keep things back.” 

He moved to the window with the words, stood a moment 
or two as if to give her an opportunity to call him back, 
then, as she remained silent, went down the steps into the 
garden and passed out of sight round the house. 

Maud was left with a stinging sensation of discomfiture 
that was compounded of doubt, indignation, and shame. 

She was relieved to think he had not seen the letter, but 
she hated the impulse that had moved her to conceal it. 


CHAPTER V 


REBELLION 

T hat letter from Saltash, written in French, contained 
the announcement of his approaching return. It 
was at her urgent written request that he had gone three 
months before. Somehow the very thought of him at the 
Castle had been intolerable after what had passed between 
them on the day of her return to her husband. But they 
had corresponded ever since. She could not refuse to 
receive and answer his letters. Her intimacy with Charlie 
was like a gem with many facets. He had an adroit fashion 
of flashing it before her hither and thither till, dazzled, 
she wondered if she had ever truly” grasped its full value. 
Sometimes it seemed to her that it had been cut from the 
very bedrock of friendship, and at such times the realization 
of the sympathy that ever pulsed between them was a pure 
joy to her. At other times, remembering the strange 
impulses of the man, his sudden gusts of passion, swift 
misgiving would assail her and she would tell herself that 
she was making a terrible mistake. And then again she 
would catch a glimpse of his careless, butterfly tempera- 
ment, and her doubts would vanish almost in spite of 
her. How could she take him seriously? His gay incon- 
sequence made the bare notion seem ridiculous. They 
were pals, no more. True, he had offered to help her; but, 
knowing him through and through as she did, he was the 
last man in the world to whom she would really turn for help. 

332 


Rebellion 


333 

And since she was so sure of herself, what had she to fear? 
Charlie was before all things a gentleman. There was 
nothing coarse or brutal about him. In his own words, 
where women were concerned, he did not take; he offered. 
For that very reason he was the harder to resist. 

But she knew him to be safe. That was the foundation 
of her confidence. She had no fear of him; he had always 
set her at her ease. Without virtue he might be, yet was 
he not without a certain code of honour. He tempted; 
therein lay the subtle attraction of the man; but he never 
compelled. He was selfish; oh yes, he was selfish, but he 
was also strangely, whimsically kind at heart. In all her 
experience of him, she had never found him merciless. 

And so she did not see why she should wholly deny 
herself the friendship which seemed to her to be the only 
good thing left in her life now. She had not wanted to see 
him, but now that he wrote to announce his return she 
found that she was glad. The first meeting with him 
might be a little difficult, but Charlie always knew how to 
deal with difficulties. He understood her; it would not 
be really hard. They would be friends again — just friends. 

She slipped the letter away with a smile. He always 
allowed himself a little more latitude when he wrote in 
French. It was but natural. It meant nothing, she 
knew. How could anyone take him really seriously? His 
soul was as elusive as thistledown. It was only in the 
realms of music that she ever really saw his soul. 

He did not say on what day he would return. She 
wondered if Jake knew, wondered if she could induce 
Bunny to ask him without betraying any interest in the 
subject herself. She was a little afraid of Bunny. His 
shrewdness embarrassed her. It was like a microscope, 
discovering things that otherwise would have escaped 
notice. She did not want to come under that microscope 
very often. There were some parts of her existence that 


334 


The Hundredth Chance 


would not bear it. She suspected that Bunny was already 
beginning to find out. She* was sure that he was aware of a 
lack of sympathy between herself and Jake, and she wished 
she could have kept it from him. 

With regard to her mother’s affairs also, she would have 
been glad if the boy had not been drawn into the discussion. 
It was characteristic of Mrs. Sheppard to fling her burden 
upon the first shoulder that offered, but Maud was fashioned 
otherwise, and she wanted Bunny to throw off his precoci- 
ties and become like other boys. The thought of his educa- 
tion was beginning to weigh upon her. She wanted to talk 
about it to Jake, but somehow she did not know how to 
broach the subject. She wondered if she should write to 
Uncle Edward, but hesitated to do so. Letters were never 
satisfactory. 

She was pondering this matter as she undressed that 
night when a sudden thought struck her — a thought that 
darted through her like a flash, leaving a shining trail of 
possibilities behind. Why should they not accept the old 
man’s invitation and go to him for a little while? He 
would be glad to see them, she was sure; and she would 
be glad — oh, unspeakably glad — to get away for a time. 
Face to face with him, she might even plead for her mother. 
She would infinitely rather be under an obligation to him 
than to Charlie. 

The idea drew her more and more. She wondered it had 
not occurred to her before. In the end, finding it still 
early, she sat down at the table and began to scribble a 
hasty note. She determined that she would not tell Jake 
until Uncle Edward’s reply reached her. She felt con- 
vinced that it would contain the invitation she was so- 
liciting. 

Feverishly she penned her appeal. Would he invite 
them to spend a few days? Bunny was well, or nearly so; 
she herself was feeling the heat, and would like a change. 


Rebellion 


335 

Jake — , no, she found she could not mention Jake. With 
trembling fingers she brought the note to an end. 

She had scarcely finished addressing the envelope when 
she heard Jake’s step on the stairs. Startled, she caught 
up letter and writing-case, and pushed them into a 
drawer. He seldom retired late, but she had not ex- 
pected him so early as this. Swiftly she turned, shut the 
door that led into his room, blew out her lamp and slipped 
into bed. 

But he did not pass on to his own room. He stopped at 
‘ the door of hers, paused a second, then quietly opened it. 
She heard the creak of his gaiters as he entered. He had a 
candle in one hand ; he put up the other to shield it from the 
draught, and the door blew gently to behind him. 

Maud leaned against her pillow and watched him. Her 
heart was beating very fast. She wondered if he had 
heard her hasty movements of the past few moments. 

He came to her side and set down his candle. “Say, 
t Maud, ” he said, “I saw your light go out, so I guessed you 
E weren’t asleep.” 

Maud’s eyes, blue-black and sombre, looked up to his. 

I “What do you want?” she asked him coldly, 
j He stood squarely beside her. “ I wanted just to speak 
to you,” he said, “and I thought if I waited to undress, 
j maybe you’d be asleep. 

With the words he sat down rather heavily in the chair 
by her side, and there fell a silence, a dragging, difficult 
silence. Maud’s heart was beating very fast. Had he 
come to talk about that letter from Saltash? Was he 
about to make a scene? 

His stillness began to act upon her nerves. She turned 
towards him restlessly. “Oh, v/hat is it ? ” she said, veiling 
i her doubt with a show of impatience. 

He stretched out a strong hand and took one of hers. 
“It’s you, my girl,” he said, and in his voice was a note of 


336 


The Hundredth Chance 


anxiety that partly reassured her. “ You’ve not been your- 
self lately. Guess there’s something the matter.” 

“There is nothing the matter, ” she said hastily. 

He held her hand closely. “You’ve no call to be afraid 
of me,” he said gently. “Maybe, I’ve been rough and 
rude at times. I’ve never meant it, my princess. I can’t 
live up to you always; but I try, — God knows I try!” 

A sudden tremor sounded in his voice; he became abruptly 
silent. 

Maud’s hand was hard clenched in his. She did not look 
at him ; but the beating of her heart rose up between them — 
a hard, insistent drumming that she was powerless to control. 

After a brief space he spoke again, his voice quite steady 
and controlled. “Reckon you’re not happy. Reckon 
you’re not well either. I’ve been thinking maybe you’d 
like to go away for a spell — you and the boy. If so, I’m 
willing to manage it. It’ll be a bit of a rest for you.” 

He paused. The clenched hand he held had made a 
sharp, convulsive movement as if at a sudden twinge of 
pain. Maud lay breathing rapidly, her eyes fixed upon the 
flame of the candle. 

He waited a few moments; then, “What do you think of 
the proposition, my girl?” he asked. 

She turned her head slowly towards him. “Bunny and 
I alone?” she said. 

“That’s the idea,” said Jake. 

Her eyes met his resolutely, with a certain challenging 
directness. “As a matter of fact, I had thought myself 
that we might go to Uncle Edward for a little, ” she said. 

He showed no surprise. “You would like that ? ” he asked. 

“Yes.” She spoke with instant decision. 

“Then go!” said Jake. He set her hand free with the 
words, but he remained seated as if he had something 
further on his mind. “By the way,” he said, after a 
moment, “ I had a letter this evening.” 


Rebellion 


337 


She started. ‘ ‘ A letter ? ’ * 

“Yes.” Very deliberately he answered her. “I met 
the postman and took it from him at the door.” 

“Ah!” It was scarcely more than a whisper. She 
shrank against her pillow with agesture wholly involuntary. 

Jake’s eyes were upon her, alert, unswerving, dominating. 
“My letter came from Capper,” he said quietly. “He is 
coming to us in a few days; he wants to see Bunny again 
before he leaves England.” 

“Oh, surely we needn’t wait for him!” With a sudden 
rush the words came; she spoke with feverish vehemence. 
“If we really are going away, let us go soon!” she urged. 
“Why should we wait?” 

“I thought maybe you’d like to say 'Thank you* to 
Capper before he goes,” said Jake. 

“But I needn’t see him for that,” she said, in growing 
agitation. “ I’ll write.” 

Jake was silent. 

“He will very likely sail from Liverpool,” she went on. 
“He could come and see Bunny there.” 

Jake bent towards her. “Say, Maud,” he said in his 
soft slow way, “don’t be upset any. If you’re not wanting 
to meet Capper, it’s all one to me. But, my girl, there 
ain’t anything he could tell me about you that I don’t 
know already.” 

Her face flamed scarlet. For the moment she was furious 
with an indignation that burned intolerably. Her very 
soul felt on fire. It was more than she could bear. 

“Oh, go away!” she cried out fiercely. “Go, I say! 
Go ! You make me hate you more and more every day— 
every night ! ” He rose on the instant. For a few quivering 
moments she thought she had roused him to anger, for his 
eyes glowed in the dimness like a slow-burning fire. And 
then in utter silence he turned away. He went into his own 
room, and softly closed the door. 


22 


CHAPTER VI 


THE PROBLEM 


E’S going to be a winner, is he?” asked Saltash, 



fi flicking the ash from his cigarette as he stood in the 
training-field with Jake. 

“That depends how he’s ridden, my lord,” said Jake 
dryly. “ He is a hot favourite.” 

“Pity you can’t ride him yourself,” observed Saltash, 
watching the Albatross with a critical eye as he cantered 
down the field. “Who is in the saddle? Not Vickers?” 

“No. Vickers is incapacitated. I have put Stevens 
up. He seems keen for the chance, though I’m not so keen 
to give it him,” Jake spoke with grimness. 

“ He ought to pull it off, ” said Saltash. 

“He ought, my lord.” Jake’s tone lacked conviction 
notwithstanding. 

Saltash turned. “What’s the matter with the lad? 
You don’t seem over enthusiastic about him.” 

Jake flicked at a clump of nettles with his riding-whip. 
“I’ve done my best to shape him, but he’s a bit of a cur. 
The animals don’t trust him.” 

Saltash uttered a careless laugh. “Oh, you always 
were an adept at reading the equine mind. Come along 
and show me the latest offspring! What was it you called 
him? The Hundredth Chance? A curious name to 
choose!” 

Jake’s grim face relaxed to a smile. “Oh, he’s in the 


338 


The Problem 


339 


paddock along with his mother. He promises to be the 
most valuable animal in the Stables. He’ll carry every- 
thing before him when the time comes.” 

“Is that why you’ve given him such a hopeftil name?” 
asked Saltash. 

Jake uttered a brief laugh. “Even so, my lord. He 
carries my luck with him wherever he goes.” 

“You’re a queer fish, Bolton,” observed Saltash, turning 
to leave the field. 

The paddock lay on the further side of the orchard, and 
here they found the pride of Jake’s heart, a frisky black foal 
who kicked up his heels and scampered at the sight of him. 

“He’ll take some taming presently, ” commented Saltash. 

“And he’ll knock spots off any animal I have ever had to 
tame, ” said Jake. 

Saltash laughed again with nonchalant interest. “If 
ever there were the right man in the right place, it is you, ” 
he said. “ Can we go back through the garden? I believe 
that’s the shortest way.” He spoke with a wary glance in 
the direction whither he wished to go. A white figitre was 
visible on the steps that led into the parlour. “I hear 
Mrs. Bolton is away, ” he added, immediately averting his 
eyes. 

Jake turned in his sturdy fashion, and began to walk 
towards the house. “No, she is at home for the present, ” 
he said. “We are expecting Capper. In fact the lad 
has gone to the station to meet him.” 

“What! Bunny? Is he really all right? Capper must 
be a magician!” ejaculated Saltash. 

“He is the biggest man I know, ” said Jake simply. 

They approached the house. The white figure had 
disappeared. 

Saltash chatted inconsequently, strolling along with a 
cigarette between his lips, and a confident smile on his 
dark face. He had come down as usual unexpectedly. 


340 


The Hundredth Chance 


but she was probably aware of his advent. His car was 
awaiting him in the stable-yard. He did not think she 
would suffer him to pass the window unnoticed. 

Yet as he drew near she made no sign. Chops came 
smiling down the steps to greet him, and he paused at once 
to fondle the dog. 

Jake paused also, but he did not invite him to enter. 
He stood pulling at the lash of his riding- whip, stolidly 
patient, awaiting his patron’s pleasure. 

Suddenly Saltash looked up. “I believe your guest has 
arrived, Bolton. You’d better go. Never mind me!” 

There came undoubtedly the sound of wheels from the 
other side of the house. Jake glanced towards the gate 
that led thither. Saltash bent again over the dog. 

“You’d better go,” he reiterated. “I won’t show. 
Don’t let me keep you!” 

Jake raised a hand to his cap and turned away. 

Instantly Saltash straightened himself. He uttered a 
low, clear whistle, and almost immediately Maud, clad in 
white, came to the window. He sprang up the steps in a 
single bound and caught her hands into his own. 

“ I had your letter, ” he said. “Quick! When can you 
meet me?” 

Maud was gasping a little. Her face was deeply flushed. 
^ ‘ Charlie ! Y ou are so sudden ! I only want — a few minutes 
alone with you.” 

He held her hands. “When?” he said. 

His eyes were gazing into hers freely, ardently; but he 
was laughing as he always laughed, ready to turn his 
ardour into a joke at a moment’s notice. 

She hesitated. 

“Quick!” he said. “They are coming, and I must go. 
Come down to the orchard-gate after dinner to-night! 
Jake and Capper will be smoking. No one will know, 
Queen Rose. That is settled then. I shall be at the gate 


The Problem 


341 


alone.” He laughed under his breath, lifted her hands 
to his lips, made a wide gesture as if he would clasp her in 
his arms, laughed again as she drew back, and wheeling, 
sprang down the steps and was gone in a moment round 
the side of the house. 

Maud’s cheeks were burning. She turned to meet the 
visitor with the feeling of one who has had a sudden rapid 
fall through space. She was not sure of the ground beneath 
her feet. 

She did not know how she greeted Capper, but somehow 
the difficult moment passed. She was convinced afterwards 
that her manner had been perfectly normal, for the atmos- 
phere was quite natural and free from strain. In a very 
few minutes they were all seated round the tea-table, and 
to her relief Bunny, and not she, was the centre of observa- 
tion and general topic of their talk. 

She feared that when tea was over Capper would seek 
her out ; but he did not. He went round the Stables with 
Jake. 

She went to her own room to rest and recover her com- 
posure. It was true that she had wanted to see Charlie 
alone ; in fact it had become essential to her mother’s inter- 
ests that she should do so. But she had not altogether 
expected so prompt a reply to her request. She wished 
she could have made some more ordinary arrangement. 
She wished with all her heart that she had had the presence of 
mind to veto his suggestion. It had never been her in- 
tention to meet him secretly and at night. Not that she 
cared personally how or when she met him. Their friend- 
ship was too old for that. But she did not like secrecy. 
Small as was the confidence she extended to her husband, 
she yet had no desire to exclude him deliberately from the 
knowledge of her doings. She did not wish to commit 
any act, however innocent, which might appear suspicious 
in his eyes. 


342 


The Hundredth Chance 


The thing was unavoidable, however, the appointment 
was made. She could not leave Charlie to wait in vain. 
For this once she must run the risk and trust to luck to 
bring her through. It would not be a long interview; she 
was fully determined upon that point. And she would 
never agree to another on the same clandestine lines. 
She must assert her independence, and meet him openly. 
Jake must learn to trust her. She must not suffer him to 
interfere with her liberty of action. If he were ridiculous 
enough to be jealous, that was his affair. She would not 
allow herself to be influenced by such an absurd attitude. 
She never questioned his doings ; she must not suffer him 
to question hers. So she sought to reassure herself the 
while her uneasiness grew. 

She put on a dress of black lace when the supper-hour 
drew near. It made her look even paler than her wont, 
but she gave scarcely a thought to her appearance. Her 
mind was weighed down by far more serious matters. 

Even the prospect of a tete-^-tete with Dr. Capper hardly 
disquieted her, and when she discovered him on the garden- 
steps of the parlour she went forward to join him without 
hesitation. 

His greeting of her was full of kindness; there was no- 
thing disconcerting about his attitude. 

“I was just thinking about my friend Rafford, ** he 
said. “You remember him? And how mad he went over 
that piece of statuary at Burchester Castle? But, strange 
to say, it's not the anatomy that interests him any longer. 
It's the face." 

She felt herself colour a little. “If it bears any resem- 
blance to me, it is purely accidental," she said. 

“Or rather, a coincidence," amended Capper. “It's a 
fine piece of work anyway. But he is nothing of a judge. 
Guess it's just the humanity of the thing that gets him." 

“It's rather a painful study," Maud said. 


The Problem 


343 

“Ah, but it leaves endless possibilities. That is where 
the genius of the sculptor displays itself. Rafford saw 
that. ‘The hotter the furnace, the purer the gold,’ he 
said to me; ‘if I had the naming of that work I’d call it 
The Crucible or Seven Times PurifiedC 

“What a peculiar point of view!” Maud exclaimed, 
almost in spite of herself. 

Capper assented. “Raff is highly imaginative. He 
has a very long perspective. A bit of a dreamer too. 
If it weren’t for that, I should prophesy a great future for 
him. But there’s no time for dreaming in this world. 
You must either hustle through or be content to stand 
aside. You can’t do both.” 

“I don’t like hustling, ” Maud said, with a smile. 

He made her a bow. “No, you are English. But Raff 
has not that excuse. That’s why I doubt if he ever gets 
there. He needs to be up against a thing before he con- 
siders it worth while. That’s not the way to win out 
handsomely. It’s the way to get whipped off the field.” 

“Always make for the crest of the wave!” said Jake’s 
voice behind them. “You may get there — some day — if 
you’re lucky; though it’s more likely you’ll be dragged 
under and swamped.” 

Capper turned to him. “Not you, Jake!” he said. 
“You’re a born winner. I’m sure Mrs. Bolton will bear 
me out there.” 

Jake’s hand descended upon his wife’s shoulder. “Mrs. 
Bolton doesn’t know my capabilities in that respect at 
present, ” he remarked dryly. “ She has only witnessed the 
start.” 

Maud did not turn her head. “You are all invincible, 
of course, ” she said. 

Bunny’s advent diverted the conversation. He could 
think and talk of nothing but the forthcoming races at 
Graydown which had been fixed for the end of the week. 


344 The Hundredth Chance 

and which he had prevailed upon Jake to allow him to 
attend. 

Capper, though not particularly enthusiastic, was to 
remain for them, “just to see Jake come out on top,’’ as he 
expressed it. It was taken for granted by all that Maud 
would go too, and she supposed she would do so; but she 
took no part in the conversation which Bunny found so 
all-absorbing. She was too occupied with the thought of 
Charlie. 

There was no need for her to talk. She sat silent and 
abstracted while the protracted discussion went on around 
her. Bunny had learned more about the animals in ten 
days than she had discovered in as many weeks, and Capper 
listened with amused indulgence. It all went over her 
head, and no one seemed to notice her aloofness. 

Bunny would gladly have sat up till late, but Jake would 
not permit this. He ordered him off to bed on the stroke 
of nine, and Bunny went without demur. He was learning 
to obey his brother-in-law without any thought of rebellion. 
Llaud noted the fact bitterly. It was another proof to her 
of the despotic mastery of Jake’s personality. He ruled 
them all. 

She herself rose from the table upon Bunny’s departure, 
and as she did so she was for the first time conscious of 
Capper’s critical scrutiny. It passed almost immediately 
as he sprang to his feet to open the door. 

“I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again?” he 
asked. 

She bent her head. “I am only going to fetch a wrap 
for the garden.” 

He smiled and bowed her out. 

Jake was in the act of lighting a cigarette when he re- 
turned to the table. He proffered the end of it to Capper, 
and as the latter stooped to kindle his own their eyes met. 
Capper’s held a question that could scarcely be ignored. 


The Problem 


345 

Half-reluctantly Jake removed his cigarette and spoke. 
“It’s the biggest problem I’ve ever been up against.” 

Capper puffed forth a cloud of smoke. “What’s troub- 
ling you?” 

Jake sat down heavily. “She ain’t pleased — ^not any. 
Life is damnably difficult. I thought I was going to make 
her happy, but I’ve made an almighty failure of it. She 
used to just tolerate me in the old days; but now — she 
hates the very sight of me. The mere thought of bearing 
me a child seems to drive her clean crazy.” 

He ceased to speak and sat bowed in his chair,' his chin 
on his breast, his eyes gazing sombrely forth under bent 
brows. 

Capper was still on his feet. He stood cracking his 
fingers one after the other with meditative regularity. His 
eyes, very green and shrewd, rested upon Jake’s head that 
shone like copper in the lamplight. 

There fell a silence of several seconds; then at length 
with another great puff of smoke he spoke. “Guess it’s 
just a case for patience, Jake, my lad. These things right 
’emselves, you know, when the time comes. It’s wonderful 
how childbearing softens a woman. And you love her. 
That’ll make a difference too — when the time comes.” 

Jake did not look up. “ God knows I do, ” he said slowly. 
“But you know. Doc — ” he seemed to be speaking with 
something of an effort — “I don’t fancy she knows it.” 

“Oh, shucks!” Capper exclaimed. “She wouldn’t be a 
woman if she didn’t.” 

Jake shook his head despondently. “I suppose I’m 
just a brute beast. She thinks so, and I can’t show her 
anything different now. Maybe I am more flesh than 
Spirit; but for all that she is the one woman I want, and 
none other could ever satisfy me now. But I haven’t got 
her. Even when I hold her in my arms, she ain’t there. 
And she has never kissed me, never once.” 


346 


The Hundredth Chance 


Again he ceased to speak, and Capper pulled at his beard 
and said nothing. 

There fell a long silence between them through which 
the grandfather clock in the corner ticked with a melan- 
choly beat. It was like the heart of a tired man. 

Jake’s cigarette hung neglected between his fingers which 
almost trailed on the floor. His eyes still stared before 
him as though they saw one thing, and only one. 

Capper smoked with scarcely a pause. His yellow face 
was very thoughtful. His cigarette came to an end, and he 
dropped it smouldering on to a plate. Then he turned and 
laid a kindly hand upon Jake’s shoulder. 

“Keep a stiff upper lip, my son! I guess she’s yours 
for the winning, or she will be. It’s no good trying to 
understand a woman’s moods. You never will do that as 
long as you live. But she’ll come to you in the end, sure. 
Give her all the rope you can!' If she hasn’t any use for 
you at present, it’ll come.” 

“Will it?” said Jake rather bitterly. “I reckon I’m 
further away from winning her now than I’ve ever been. 
Once — it’s ages ago — she came to me and cried out her 
troubles on my shoulder. She’d no more dream of doing 
that now than she’d dream of flying. She’d be more likely 
to — ” He broke off short. 

“What?” said Capper. 

Jake sat slowly up. His eyes still seemed to be fixed 
upon some definite object. “I was going to say, ” he said, 
in a voice that had become peculiarly soft and deliberate, 
“that she’d be more likely to carry her troubles to Saltash. 
But I don’t think exactly that. He’s too crooked to hold a 
woman s confidence. No woman with any sense would 
trust him.” 

He grasped Capper’s hand and looked up with a curious 
smile. 

“ It would be a pity to have to shoot a freak like Saltash, 


The Problem 


347 


wouldn’t it ? ” he said. ‘ ‘ Reckon a good many women would 
miss him.” 

His eyes shone red for a moment, then he uttered a laugh 
that seemed to dismiss the subject. 

“Come into the garden and see the moon rise!” he said. 


CHAPTER VII ; 


THE LAND OF , MOONSHINE 



'HE dew was thick on the orchard grass as Maud ran 


1 down under the trees. An orange moon was rising 
behind them and the shadows lay deep and mysterious 
across her path. The wind blew fresh from the sea, sweep- 
ing the wide down, bringing relief after the heat of the day. 

She was trembling as she went, yet as she neared the 
trysting-place she checked hprself and walked with some 
dignity. She did not want to arrive in a state of agitation. 
She was sure he would be waiting for her. She was sure, 
she was sure ! 

Yes, he was there. They saw each other simultaneously, 
and in a moment he had sprung to meet her with the ardour 
she knew so well. Her hands were in his almost in the 
same instant. He held them closely, lingeringly. 

'‘At last!” he said. 

Rather breathlessly she made response. “Yes, but I 
can’t stay. I want to speak to you — only to speak to you 
— about my mother.” 

“Good heavens!” said Saltash. His hold relaxed for a 
second, then tightened again. “ My dear girl, how absurdly 
prosaic of you to come to me on such a night as this and 
talk about anybody or anything on earth besides ourselves! ; 
I won’t allow it and that’s a fact.” 

She laughed a little unsteadily. “But it is just that 
I have come for, Charlie ; and nothing else. And I can’t i 


348 


The Land of Moonshine 


349 

stay either. You must let me say what I have to say 
quickly, and then go.” 

He drew her gently through the gate and led her to the 
summer-house close by that overlooked the down. The 
moonlight filtered in upon them through a lattice-work of 
leaves. 

“ Don’t tremble, ma belle reine ! ” he said. “You shall go 
whenever you will. But need we waste to-night? I will 
call upon you formally' in the morning if you desire it and 
talk about anything you wish.” 

She sat down with the feeling of one who moves beneath a 
spell, and after a moment he sat beside her, still lightly hold- 
ing her hand. Yes, she was at liberty to go whenever she 
would; and yet she could not, she could not! 

The witchery of the hour was upon her. It was not the 
.first time that they had sat thus, he and she, hand in hand, 
wrapped in the mystery and romance of a summer night. 
Her thoughts went back with a bitter pang to the old 
dear dream. Ah, why had she sent him from her? She 
had obeyed the instincts of her soul, perchance; but she had 
wrecked her life to do it. Why? Why? 

He was speaking, leaning to her, his swarthy face against 
her shoulder. “Maud, let us forget the world to-night! 
Never mind what brought you! Just remember that you 
are here — in the land of moonshine — with me!” 

She turned at his voice; she yielded ever so slightly to 
the subtle drawing of his hand. “But let me speak, 
Charlie!” she whispered. “I am so troubled. I want 
your help.” 

“It is yours for ever,” he made answer. “You have 
but to command.” 

“That is a promise?” she urged. 

“My solemn promise,” said Saltash. “Now— shall we 
forget?” 

His voice was full of a tenderness that stirred her to the 


350 


The Hundredth Chance 


9 

depths. A piteous sob caught her throat; she put up a 
swift, silencing hand. “Oh, if I only could!” she said. 

“You can,” said Saltash. He moved also, slid a gentle 
arm about her. “Close your eyes, dear heart, and forget 
all your troubles!” he whispered. “I can charm them all 
away.” 

She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears. “lam 
caught in the whirlpools, Charlie,” she whispered back.' 
“I shall never get away. All the romance is gone out of 
my life — for ever.” 

‘ ‘ I can bring it back, ” he said. 

Her tears overflowed. She could not hold them back. 
“I wish I were dead!” she said. 

The arm that encircled her grew gradually tense like 
the tightening of a coil. “Come to me!” he murmured. 
“Listen to your own heart and come ! What does it matter 
what lies behind? Put it all away from you — and come!” 

She suffered his arm, but she yielded herself no further 
to it. “I can’t,” she said hopelessly. “I — can’t.” 

‘ ‘ Why not ? ” he urged. * ‘ Haven’t I waited long enough ? 
Are you afraid?” 

She bent her head, covering her face. “Oh yes, I am 
afraid — afraid. Life is so dreadful. It is full of — terrible 
consequences.” 

It had come upon her so suddenly. She had as it were 
stepped out of prison into a world of seething temptation 
with the passing of that gate. Never before had she felt 
so lured and drawn by that which was evil. The swift 
spell had caught her in a moment, and it held, — how it 
held her ! 

His arms were about her. He drew her to his breast. 
“What do I care for consequences?” he whispered passion- 
ately. “Come to me, queen of my heart! I have been 
cheated of my right long enough. Y es, my right — my right 1 
You have belonged to me always, and you know it. Oh, 


The Land of Moonshine 


351 


what are we to fight against destiny ? Do you think I don’t 
know how you have suffered? Do you think I haven’t 
suffered too? All because you loved me — and sent me 
av/ay! You will never do that again, queen of the roses. 
Y ou have called me back to you. Y ou are mine. Turn your 
face to me, sweetheart! There is no love in all the world 
like ours. How can we resist it? It is greater than we 
ourselves.” 

But she kept her face covered, hidden low against the 
throbbing of his heart. 

His words went into silence — a silence that was stark 
and cold — the very shadow of Despair. It bound them 
both for a while; then shudderingly she spoke. 

“It is no good, Charlie. I can’t do it — now. If I had 
known — three months ago — what was before me — I think 
I would have come. But the whirlpools caught me — drew 
me down. I realized too late — too late. I can’t come now. 
I am bound — hand and foot — in outer darkness.” 

“I can deliver you,” he said. 

“No one can deliver me.” The bitter conviction of her 
voice silenced even him. “ It is what you foretold. I am a 
slave, and I have got to bear the yoke of my slavery. I 
shall never be free now, never as long as I live. I am bound 
to the oar by a chain that — even you — could never break.” 

She moved in his arms ; she raised her head at last. 

“Say good-bye to me, Charlie!” she whispered, “and — 
go!" 

He caught her to him. He looked closely into her 
quivering face. “You love me still?” he whispered, with 
passionate insistence. “Tell me you love me still!” 

She seemed to hesitate as if reluctant or irresolute. She 
seemed about to draw back. And then something magnetic 
in his face or his touch must have moved her; or was it the 
weird enchantment of the night? She gave him her lips 
without a word, and so he had his answer. . . . 


352 The Hundredth Chance 

There came the click of the orchard-gate, the sound of a 
quiet voice. 

“Come round to the summer-house, Doc I There’s a 
fine view from there.” 

Maud stiffened in Saltash’s arms as if turned to stone. 

He set her free with the utmost coolness and rose. The 
next instant she was sitting alone in the chequered moon- 
light. He had vanished without sound round the side of the 
arbour furthest from the orchard-gate. 

She sat with a thumping heart, waiting. There had been 
something almost eerie in his disappearance. She knew he 
must be standing pressed against the wall by which she sat, 
but yet his going had been so silent that — even though her 
lips still burned with the memory of his kiss — she felt 
curiously as though the whole episode were as incredible 
as a dream. 

She made no attempt to move. Her limbs felt like lead. 
Only her heart raced so madly that she gasped for breath. 

She heard again the quiet, drawling voice. “The gate 
was open. Very likely my wife is here.” 

A great shiver went through her. She felt suddenly cold 
from head to foot. She clasped her hands tightly together, 
striving with all her strength for self-control. 

There fell the tread of feet upon the grass, and Capper’s 
tall thin form came round the side of the arbour. He saw 
her in a moment, for the moonlight was on her face. She 
stared at him with hunted eyes. Yv here was J ake? f 

He accosted her at once. “Ah, Mrs. Bolton, so here you 
are! Say, do you think you’re wise to sit here with the 
frogs? It’s cold, you know. Where’s that wrap you were 
going to fetch?” 

She stretched out a hand to him instinctively. “Yes, | 
I am cold,” she said, and her teeth chattered upon the 
words. “Is — is — Jake there?” 

Capper glanced over his shoulder. “He was there. 


The Land of Moonshine 


353 

i’ But — Columbus! — how cold you are, child! You will be 
' sick if you stay here. Come! Let me take you in!” 

: He drew her to her feet; then, as she tottered, leaning 

j upon him, passed a wiry arm about her. As he did so, she 
saw Jake come round the other corner of the arbour and 
stop upon the threshold. 

S She turned suddenly giddy and clung weakly to Capper. 

[ He had seen; he must l;ave seen! But why had there 
i been no encounter — no challenge of any sort? Where — 
i where was Charlie? 

) She went through an agony of apprehension during those 
few moments. She thought the awful suspense would 
kill her. 

Then Jake's square figure advanced, blocking the opening. 
His voice pierced through her agitation. 

‘‘So you have found her, Doc. I thought she would be 
hereabouts. I see there is a mist coming up. We had 
better go in.” 

There was nothing in the words, but she shivered uncon- 
trollably at the sound of them. That slow soft speech was 
; as a veil that hid unutterable things. With a great effort 
she mastered her weakness and spoke. 

“Yes, it has turned quite cold. I think it is the dew. 
Did you come here to admire the view. Dr. Capper? It is 
one of the best in the neighbourhood. I often think I 
should like to come and camp out here on these summer 
nights.” 

“You would want plenty of blankets,” said Capper. 
“There is a creepy chill in the atmosphere that reminds 
one of the fall.” He took his arm from about her, and 
drew her hand through it. “Come, we must go. It isn’t 
right for you to take risks. A glass of wine before you 
turn in is what I should recommend.” 

She made an attempt to laugh, but she did not feel it to be 
a success. “That is Jake’s invariable remedy for all ills, ” 


23 


354 


The Hundredth Chance 


she declared. “But I thought it had ceased to be popular 
with your profession.” 

She emerged from the summer-house, holding his arm, 
but a new strength born of terrible expediency seemed to 
have entered into her. She moved without effort, Jake 
stepping back to let her pass. 

“Do admire the beauties of it before we go!” she urged. 
“ It is so romantic by this light. The Brethaven lighthouse 
is over there. It has a revolving light. Do you see it?” 
She turned and spoke over her shoulder. “Jake, come 
and show Dr. Capper all the different points of interest. ” 

But Capper would have none of it. “I shan’t be satisfied 
till I’ve got you indoors,” he said. “What have you got 
on your feet? Nothing but light slippers? Say, Mrs. 
Bolton, you ought to take more care of yourself.” 

“Oh, but I never have,” she protested. “I am wonder- 
fully strong. Jake will tell you that.” 

“I think as Dr. Capper thinks,” Jake said. “You 
ought to be more careful.” 

She felt herself flush. Now that her agitation had 
subsided, she was capable of feeling resentment once more, 
and there was that in the quiet utterance that stung her. 

She made no rejoinder, but her face burned hotter and 
hotter as they began to walk back. She was sure — quite 
sure — that she had been made a subject of discussion be- 
tween her husband and Dr. Capper. 

Jake walked on her other side. She had the feeling of 
being a prisoner between two warders. And she wondered 
if Charlie were watching with that mocking humour in his 
eyes. 

She set her teeth as the memory of his voice, his touch, 
went through her. She wondered with a sinking heart 
what she would have to tell him when they met again. . . . 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE WARNING 

H alf an hour later Maud stood in her bedroom, 
waiting. The window was wide open, and the night- 
air blew in cold and pure, with a scent of dew-drenched 
roses and the salt of the sea behind. There was a large 
moth in the room. Itivhad been attracted thither by the 
light of the candles, but it seemed to be dashing to and fro 
now in a wild search for freedom. She watched its futile 
efforts with a vague pity. But she was powerless to help it. 
Every moment it was circling closer and closer to the flame 
and would probably perish there in the end. She supposed 
it didn’t matter. It was born to die in any case, and surely 
death was kinder than life. She had often thought 
so. 

If she could have chosen death in that moment instead 
of this numb waiting for an ordeal which she felt would be 
beyond her strength, she believed she would not have 
hesitated. This continual battling against a v/ill so im- 
measurably stronger than her own was wearing her down. 
The bare thought of an open conflict made her sick. And 
that an open conflict was before her she felt convinced. He 
had not chosen to confound her in the presence of Capper, 
but she knew that the reckoning was only deferred. She 
had come to know him as a man of unerring justice, and 
she had long ceased to hope for mercy from him. 

Ah! She heard his step at last, and turned, bracing 
355 


356 


The Hundredth Chance 


herself. The moth was flitting dizzily round and round 
the candle. Her eyes followed it fascinated. 

Suddenly it made a headlong dash for the flame, there 
came a sharp crackle, and then the diill thud of its fall upon 
the floor. A great shudder caught her, almost convulsed 
her. And in the same instant the door that intervened 
between her room and Jake’s opened; and he stood before 
her. 

She faced him stiffly in utter silence. One glimpse she 
had of his face, and only one; for she could not look again. 
The red-brown eyes were alight with a fire that seemed to 
consume her even from afar. She stood and numbly 
waited. 

He came straight to her. “So,” he said, “you have 
decided to make a fool of me, hav^you?” 

His voice was veA low, but it had in it the sound as of 
an angry animal. There was something of the animal in 
his pose also, something from which her whole being shrank 
affrighted. 

Yet she was not without courage. She forced herself to 
a certain calmness. “Will you tell me what you mean?” 
she said. 

He made a slight gesture that seemed to cry aloud of a 
savagery scarcely restrained. “I guess you can do that,” 
he said. “What do I mean? Tell me!” 

She drew back from him with an instinctive movement of 
recoil, but on the instant, as though she had stepped into a 
trap, his hands came out and caught her by the wrists. 
He held her firmly before him. 

“Tell me!” he reiterated. 

I But she took refuge in silence. She had no words. 

He held her so for many seconds, and she knew that 
during those seconds his eyes remained immovably fixed 
upon her. She made no attempt to resist him. She knew 
beyond all question that resistance would be worse than 


357 


The Warning 

useless. But she refused with mute determination to meet 
his eyes. Crush her, conquer her, as he would, he should 
not force his way past every barrier unopposed. Her 
submission was physical but not mental. She had always, 
held back from him her soul. 

I He spoke at length, and still in his voice she heard that 
[ terrible, deep menace as of a savage force that gathered and 
I gathered under the thinning surface of his civilization. “I 
I reckon you think I’m easier to fool than I am. Old friends 
[ must have their privileges. Ain’t that so? And if they 
t include a little genteel love-making, where’s the harm? 
Who is to raise any objection? Not the husband who has 
been too big an oaf ever to make love to you in his life! 

I The husband who just takes what he wants and leaves^what’s 
over for the lover I He should be the last person to interfere, 
I reckon. Ain’t that so?” 

She shivered in his hold, but she spoke no word. Had 
they not always been utterly at variance with one another? 
How could she hope to make him see anything but evil 
now that his brutal passions were aroused? How could she 
ever attempt to convince him that he alone was responsible 
for the fact that temptation had become even possible to 
; her? 

And so she stood in silence while the dreadful force of 
the man mounted and mounted, menacing her. 

He waited for several seconds for some response from her; 

, then, at last, as she made none, he moved, drew her locked 
; 'wrists behind her, forcing her slowly back till her face was 
: turned up to his gaze. 

She felt the scorching fire of the eyes she would not 
' meet, and in a moment her whole body seemed to burn in a 
I furnace of shame. The hot blood stung her from head to 
^ foot, pricking every vein. Crimson and quivering, she 
hung there in his hold, waiting. 

! “So you won’t speak to me? ” he said. “Won’t even try 


358 


The Hundredth Chance 


to defend yourself? Well, maybe you’re wise. Maybe 
explanations would do more harm than good. I know well 
enough how it is with you. You’ve got to the pitch of 
enduring me like a loathsome but incurable disease. You 
never reflected, did you, that in so doing you were making 
your own hell? You hate me, but you don’t realize that 
the thing you hate is not me at all but a brute of your own 
creation. And because of that — p’raps it’s a natural con- 
sequence — you’ve come to prefer another man’s love to 
mine.” 

His hold was tightening upon her; she felt herself being 
drawn to him, felt the warmth of his body like the glow of 
an open fire. And a sudden wild wave of rebellion went 
through her, goading her into action at last. She had never 
resisted him before; she resisted him now fiercely, passion- 
ately, striving with all her strength to free herself from that 
pitiless hold'. 

“You never offered me love, ” she panted, straining back 
from him even while he mastered her. “Love — love — is a 
very different thing!” 

Her voice went into a gasp that was almost a cry. He 
was holding her crushed to him in a grip that nearly suffo- 
cated her. His eyes blazed down into hers, terrible in 
their intensity, cruelly, appallingly bright. The savage 
in him had leapt free of all shackles at last, and had her 
utterly at his mercy. 

“Well?” he said, speaking with lips drawn back, showing 
his set teeth. “And what is love — as defined by you — • 
and Saltash? Something peculiarly holy?” 

The taunt pierced her like a knife, with a pain so un- 
bearable that for the moment she was almost beside herself. 
For an instant she winced from that intolerable thrust; 
but only for an instant. The next with a furious wrench 
she freed one hand and struck him — struck him across his 
grim, menacing mouth. 


The Warning 359 

“How dare you say that?” she cried. “How dare you? 
How dare you?” 

' She struck him afresh with each repetition, so stung to 

( frenzy was she by that sneer. But when the sudden 
realization that he stood to endure her blows without the 
t smallest attempt to check or avoid them came upon her, 
the spirit went out of her. She became passive again, 
trembling from head to foot, so that but for his upholding 
arms she must have fallen. 

“Let me go!” she whispered voicelessly. “Let me 

He was still gazing at her, but his look had changed. His 
eyes still burned, but they no longer threatened. Rather 
I she read in them a slow-gathering wonder, as of a man 
I who has picked up some strange substance of which he does 
! not know the value or properties. 

He held her awhile longer, and then very gradually he let 
her go. 

She drew away from him, her bosom heaving, her lips 
panting, and leaned upon the dressing-table for support, 
j She had withstood him indeed, but it had cost her every 
I inch of her strength. 

She did not know how she endured his silence. It seemed 
to pierce every nerve, while he still stood observing her, as 
it were appraising her. 

Then at length very slowly he spoke. “ I take back what 
I said about Saltash. I see I was wrong.” 

He paused a moment. She had made a sharp gesture of 
surprise, but she spoke no word. He went on. 

“I realize — now — that you do not know what love is. 
If you did, you wouldn’t be so — ashamed. Maybe you 
never will know. It isn’t given to all of us — not that sort. 
But let me tell you this 1 Your friendship — or whatever you 
call it — with Saltash must end. There must be no more 
letters — no more secret meetings. Saltash is not a white 


360 


The Hundredth Chance 


man. I believe in your own heart you know it. Trust 
him, and he will let you down, — sure.” 

He spoke with sombre force. She heard him in utter 
silence, her head bent, still striving to call back her vanished 
strength. 

He came a step nearer to her. “ Maybe you think you 
can hoodwink me — disobey me, and I shan’t know. You 
haven’t a very great opinion of my intellect, I guess. But 
— you may take it from me — I shall know. And if you 
try to deceive me, you will repent it. You wouldn’t fancy 
life on a lone ranch with not a soul but me to speak to — 
and all the dishes to wash?” A grim note that was not 
without a hint of humour crept into his voice. “That’s 
what it will mean, my girl, if you don’t obey your husband 
now. I’m a man of my word, and I think you know it.” 

He was standing close to her. She felt the vitality of the 
man, encompassing her, enthralling her. Her brief resist- 
ance was over. The very heart of her felt too tired to beat. 
He had not forcibly quelled her rebellion, yet in some 
fashion he had taken from her the power to rebel. 

He waited for her to speak, but still she could not. Only 
after a moment or two she drew back from him again and 
sat down in a chair by the table. He had delivered his 
ultimatum. There seemed nothing more to be said. 

She wished dully that he would go. Surely he could see 
that the game was his, that she had ceased to move or to 
attempt to counter that final stroke! Yet he still stood 
motionless, almost as if he were waiting for something. 

Suddenly he spoke again with an odd, restrained vehe- 
mence; she felt that he spoke in spite of himself. “That’s 
a prospect that doesn’t attract you, I reckon. You’ve no 
use for me, never have had — save once. My love is just 
an insult to you. You even call it by another name. But 
I tell you this, ” his voice deepened with a strong vibration 
that affected her very strangely, gripping her close atten- 


36l 


The Warning 

tion, “whatever it is, it’s a driving force that I can’t 
restrain. It may be an obsession, it may be a curse; but 
there is no getting away from it. It simply is and it has 
got to be. And if any man ever dares to come between 
us — you had better mark what I say — I’ll shoot him!” 

He spoke with a fatalism that sank deep into her soul. 
It was no savage threat, but the clear pronouncement of a 
man who knew exactly what he would do under given 
circumstances. And she was sure in that moment, abso- 
lutely sure, that no dread of consequences would deter 
him. 

She did not answer him; there was nothing to say. But 
there swept over her another dreadful wave of apprehension 
such as had caught her in the summer-house an hour 
before, turning her cold from head to foot. What would 
he say if he knew what had passed between them — if he 
knew that their lips had met? 

She pictured him selecting his weapon with the deadly 
determination that had inspired his words, saw the cruel 
set of the mouth, the ruthless glitter of the savage eyes; 
and she shivered, shivered uncontrollably, convulsively, as 
one in the grip of an ague. 

He saw the shiver; he could not fail to see it, and his 
attitude changed a little. A measure of softening came into 
it, even a tinge of kindliness. 

“There, you’re overwrought,” he said. “It’s time you 
got to bed. Reckon you understand me, so we’ll give the 
matter a rest.” 

He turned with the words, turned in his sturdy, purposeful 
fashion and went back to his room. 

She did not watch him go, but she listened with straining 
ears for the closing of the door between them. It did not 
come to her. There was to be no relief from his presence 
that night. The door remained half-open. 

She sat on motionless for a moment or two, listening in 


362 The Hundredth Chance 

a ntxmb, hopeless fashion to his quiet, methodical move- 
ments. 

She got up sharply at length and began with quivering 
speed to undress, not daring to linger lest she should have to 
meet again the straight, unsparing scrutiny of those terribly 
bright eyes. 

Once only, and that just at the last, did she stay a 
moment and stoop over a small dark object on the floor — 
something she fancied she had dropped. But the next 
instant a wild fit of trembling seized her, she stood up again, 
feeling giddy, physically sick. The thing on the floor 
was the charred remnant of the moth that had fluttered 
impotent wings to escape but so short a time before. It 
lay there shrivelled, lifeless, the wings that had beaten so 
madly for freedom shattered and consumed in the flame. 

She caught her hand to her throat. What evil Fate had 
decreed that such things should be? Even the tiniest 
thread of life could not escape the seething whirlpool of 
destruction. 

Sick at heart, she turned and extinguished the candle 
that had wrought so cruel a doom. The moonlight shone 
whitely into the room. She went to the window and pulled 
down the blind; then trembling, she crept to bed. And 
the darkness covered her soul. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE INVITATION 

S ALTASH did not come to her on the following day, and 
for her own sake she was thankful that he did not. 
But the problem of her mother’s difficulties had begun to 
vex her sorely. Without communicating with him, she 
knew that it could not be solved. He had given his promise 
to help her, yet somehow she did not feel the task before 
her to be a very easy one. Charlie was so curiously elusive 
in some respects. It was not always a simple matter to 
detach him from the whim of the moment. And she 
had many a time heard him declare that he was not a 
business man. 

She watched the post with nervous anxiety, but nothing 
came for her. She was relieved to have nothing to conceal, 
but her mother’s anxieties weighed upon her. She hesi- 
tated to write to Charlie, but told herself she would have to 
do so if no word came from him. It was all highly un- 
satisfactory, and behind her uneasiness there lurked a deep 
sense of self-reproach, self-distrust. She had suffered him 
to go too far, too far. It might be difficult to recover a 
normal footing. It might be he was even now planning 
some deep game, some master-stroke to follow up the 
advantage he had gained and win her for his own. 

He would not succeed. He could not succeed. She 
would not so much as allow her thoughts to wander in that 
direction. She had been mad that night. There had been 

363 


364 


The Hundredth Chance 


witchery in the very air. But now she was awake to the 
crude realities of life, awake and sane and bitterly ashamed 
of her weakness. He might plot and intrigue, but he could 
not overthrow her reason a second time. The madness 
had passed, and it would not return. But the necessity 
for seeing him remained, and it was an urgent one. She 
found it hard to wait in inactivity. 

The whole day passed without a sign from him, and her 
patience began to wear thin. Surely, surely he could not 
fail to keep that solemn promise of his! Surely he could 
not have forgotten — or be waiting for her to make the first 
move I 

She went for a walk on the down with Capper in the 
evening. She did not greatly want to go. She was a little 
afraid of his shrewd insight. But she found that she had 
no cause for fear. He was full of kindly commonplace 
topics, and he touched upon no intimate subject whatever. 
She returned from the walk feeling soothed and refreshed. 

They went through the training-field on the way back, 
and here they came upon Jake, giving Bunny his first riding- 
lesson. It was good to see the boy’s eagerness, his flushed 
face and shining eyes. He was utterly fearless and even 
impatient of Jake’s care. 

They stood awhile and watched, then turned and walked 
up through the garden. 

“He is very happy,” Maud said. 

Capper smiled. “Jake is an A i companion for him, 
Mrs. Bolton. He is thrice lucky to be in the care of a man 
like Jake.” 

She agreed without enthusiasm. “Yes, Jake is very 
kind.” 

“That’s so. And he won’t spoil him either. Also,” 
Capper spoke with emphasis, “he’ll never learn anything 
that isn’t clean and straight from Jake. Guess he’ll make 
a fine man some day.” 


The Invitation 


365 


“Thanks to you, Doctor!” Maud said. 

“No, madam. Thanks to Jake! My part was a very 
i small one. I am just a mechanic; but Jake is a driver of 
engines — a maker of men.” 

Maud said nothing, and he changed the subject. 

They lingered in the garden till Jake and Bunny joined 
’ them; then they separated. Bunny, contrary to custom, 
attaching himself to Maud, and Jake taking possession of 
Capper. 

: Brother and sister ascended the steps into the house and 

entered the parlour. Bunny was still flushed and excited. 

; Life was full of absorbing interest to him. He had actually 
^ been off the leading rein most of the time, — yes, and he had 
: cantered too. Jake said he was to go and have a warm 
; bath and then do his time on the floor. It was a great 
i bore, but he supposed he’d have to. What was Maud 
< looking so sick about? Wasn’t she well? 

’ This amiable enquiry was made just as Maud’s eyes had 
!. fallen upon a letter lying on the table. She almost snatched 
f it up, and then found with a mingling of relief and disap- 
1 pointment that it was not from Saltash. 
i The crabbed writing was wholly unfamiliar to her. 
f She stood gazing at it while her sudden agitation subsided. 
I “Who’s it from?” said Bunny, coming to peer over her 
) shoulder. “Liverpool post-mark. Why, that’s from that 
r queer old codger who was down here in the winter, I’ll 
‘ bet. What on earth does he want?” 

“To be sure — Uncle Edward,” Maud said. 

She opened the letter with Bunny looking on. They 
! read it together. 

“My dear Grand-niece, 

“I am pleased to acknowledge your letter of the 4th 
I inst., and I write to inform you that I shall be delighted to 
receive you and your brother on whatever date it may 


366 


The Hundredth Chance 


suit you to come. I am glad to hear of the latter’s excellent 
progress. I presume you are capable of keeping him in 
order. You will of course be prepared to find your own 
entertainment. Should your worthy husband care to join 
the party by any chance, I have room for all. 

“Your affectionate uncle, 
“Edward Warren.” 

“Holy Christopher!” ejaculated Bunny. “What on 
earth did you want to write to him for? I’m not going 
there, — jiggered if I am! And to be tied to your apron- 
strings too, — not much ! ” 

Maud folded the letter. “I thought you might like to 
go away with me for a little, ” she said. 

He stared at her. “What! Away from Jake? Not — 
much!” 

She tried to smile. “You’re not very flattering, Bunny.” 

Bunny was still staring. “I can’t think what’s come to 
you! Jake’s the best chap in the world, and yet you don’t 
seem to get on with him. Say, what the blazes is the 
matter with you anyway?” 

She bit her lip. “I wish you wouldn’t be so horribly 
imitative. Bunny. You never used to talk like that.” 

Bunny flared up on the instant. “I’ll talk as I damn’ 
well please! It’s no affair of yours. As to leaving Jake, 
I’m hanged if I will! You can jolly well go by yourself!” 

“And as to behaving like a beastly bounder, you’ll 
apologize for it before you leave this room,” a soft voice 
said. 

Both started violently. Jake had come up the steps 
from the garden. He walked over to the mantelpiece, 
searched for and found a box of matches; then turned. 

“If we were alone, my son, I’d punch your head for you. 
Maud is quite right. You’ve no call to talk like a cowboy. 
Now apologize — quick ! ” 


The Invitation 


367 


But Bunny stood sullenly silent. 

Maud turned to the door. “ Pray don’t trouble to make 
him do that!” she said. “I am accustomed to cowboy 
manners.” 

The door closed upon her, and in the same instant Jake’s 
hand closed upon Bunny’s shoulder. 

Go after her ! ” he commanded. Catch her up, and say 

you’re sorry!” 

But Bunny resisted him. won’t, Jake. I’m not 
sorry. And I won’t go and stay with Uncle Edward. 
There! If you send me, I’ll run away.” 

Jake shook him. “ I’ll be mad with you in a minute, my 
son. Go after her, do you hear? Go after her and make it 
up before she starts crying!” 

“ She won’t cry ! ” said Bunny incredulously. ** She never 
does.” 

Jake swung him round to the door. “Bunny, don’t you 
be a skunk! If you don’t go, there’ll be trouble — bad 
trouble.” 

“But it was her fault!” protested Bunny, stung to 
remonstrance. “She set on to me first.” 

“I don’t care whose fault it was,” said Jake. “You’re 
to go.” 

Bunny writhed in his hold. “You’re beastly unfair, 
Jake. If I do go, I shan’t apologize.” 

“You won’t?” said Jake. 

“No, I won’t!” There was a faint note of apprehension 
in Bunny’s voice, notwithstanding its defiance. He stood 
up to Jake, but his eyelids quivered ever so slightly. Plis 
hands opened and shut in the old nervous fashion. 

Jake was holding him fast. “Think it over!” he said. 
“Think it over!” 

liis voice was steady, his grip inflexible. His eyes never 
left the boy’s hot face. They held a stern warning that 
could not be ignored. 


368 


The Hundredth Chance 


Bunny straightened himself to meet it. ‘‘I suppose 
you’ll thrash me, ” he said. '' Well, — you must, that’s all.” 

A faint gleam crossed Jake’s face. It was hardly a 
smile, and was gone on the instant. “No, I shan’t thrash 
you, ” he said. “Now, will you go?” 

And Bunny capitulated, struck his colours uncondition- 
ally, flung his arms round his brother-in-law’s shoulders. 
“All right, Jake. I’ll go, old man. I’ll go. Don’t look so 
confoundedly grim ! ” 

Jake held him back with one hand on his rough dark 
head. “Be off with you, boy! I’ll see you later — maybe 
when you’re in bed. Go now!” 

He smiled upon Bunny, for there were tears in the boy’s 
eyes, patted him on the back, and turned to go as he had 
entered. 

Ten seconds later Bunny was beating a rousing tattoo on 
his sister’s door. “Say, Maud, let me in — quick — quick!” 

He wriggled at the handle, for the door was locked, and, 
meeting with no response, beat again. 

“Maud, I say, let me in! I’ve come to say I’m sorry. 
Don’t be waxy, old girl! Open the door!” 

There came a lagging footstep. The key turned, Bunny 
burst into the room headlong. 

“You’re not crying, are you? I knew you weren’t. 
There ! It’s all right, isn’t it ? What makes you so touchy, 
nowadays? You never used to be.” 

Her arms held him tightly in a mute embrace. She 
kissed him with a yearning tenderness. 

Bunny drew back and looked at her with sudden, close 
attention. “Maud, what’s the matter? Tell me what’s 
the matter!” 

She was smiling, a strangely drawn smile. Not for the 
first time he became conscious of the veil of reserve that 
hung between them. He strove with it indignantly, seeking 
to tear it aside. 


The Invitation 


369 

“Maud, tell me, I say! You would have told me in the 
old days.” 

She caught back an involuntary sigh. “You were older 
[ then, Bunny.” 

“ I wasn’t 1 ” he declared. “What rot 1” 

I “Ah well,” she said gently, “things were different in 
[ those days.” 

I And suddenly there came to Bunny — Bunny who had 
i lain and watched life so long that his eyes had grown tired 
j with watching — one of the old shrewd flashes of enlighten- 
i ment, solving the mystery. 

I He held her very tightly, his face burning red, “Say, 

! Maud — old girl, is it — is it — I know what it is!” 
j “Don’t, Bunny!” she whispered inarticulately. 

He kissed her with the warmth of renewed understanding* 
i “That’s why Jake’s so beastly worried about you. Poor 
: old boy! He’s getting as lean as Chops. Have you 
noticed?” 

She had not. They sat down together on an ottoman 
near the window. Bunny’s arm protectingly around her. 

“He sent me up after you in such a hurry because he 
was afraid you were going to cry,” he went on. “He was 
furious with me for vexing you. Poor old Jake!” 

' A curious little pang of resentment went through her. 
“You seem to think he is very much to be pitied,” she 
said. 

“ I do, ” said Buniiy instantly. “ He looks so down in the 
mouth nowadays. I saw it directly I came home. He’s 
got a sort of hurt look at the back of his eyes, as if he wasn’t 
getting on with himself. I sometimes wish you’d be a bit 
kinder to him, Maud. I’m sure he mopes.” 

This was a point of view so new to Maud that she hardly 
knew how to regard it. Somehow it had never occurred to 
her that Jake could take her attitude to heart, Jake who 
trampled down all rebellion with so merciless a heel. She 


*4 


370 


The Hundredth Chance 


had always told herself that Jake had all he really wanted. 
That he was aware of any need of the spirit she had never 
seriously believed. Bunny’s assertion brought to mind 
Mrs. Wright’s kindly assurance that there was a whole 
lot of reserve in Jake; and for the first time the old woman’s 
words recurred to her. “He won’t show you his heart so 
long as he thinks you’ve no use for it.” Was there a 
measure of truth in those words? She wondered. She 
wondered. 

“Guess I must be going,” said Bunny. “I’ve got to 
have a bath. You might turn on the water for me like a 
brick while I go and undress.” 

There was subtle tact in the suggestion. Bunny knew — 
none better — that to wait upon him was his sister’s dearest 
privilege, and he judged by her sad face that it was time to 
change her thoughts. 

When he arrived in the bath-room a few minutes later, 
he found everything put ready for his comfort, and Maud 
waiting to turn off the water at his command. He was 
attired in a large bath towel which he held artistically 
draped about his person. He thrust a bare, warm arm about 
her neck. 

“Thanks, old girl. You’re jolly decent to me! I don’t 
know how I managed to be such a beast. Guess my temper 
must have got warped in its youth. By the way, there’s 
a letter for you from Charlie on my dressing-table. He 
told me to give it to you when we were alone. I suppose 
it’s something to do with the mother’s affairs.” 

“Oh, perhaps,” Maud said; and she hoped he did not 
note her sudden start or the quick flushing of her face. 
“When did you see him?” 

“He came up the garden way this evening just before I 
went riding with Jake. You were out with Dr. Capper. 
He was in rather a decent niood, ” said Bunny. “He gave 
me half a sovereign. Not a bad sort — Charlie.” 


The Invitation 


371 

He began to emerge from the enveloping towel, and 
Maud tmned to go. 

“You can stay if you like,’' said Bunny graciously. 
“I’ve no wish to make a stranger of you.” 

But she smiled and declined the invitation. “You do 
better without me now, ” she said. 

And as the boy’s small thin figure slipped down into the 
[bath, she went out and crossed the passage swiftly to his 
room. 

The letter from Charlie was not on his table, but tossed 
carelessly on the bed with his clothes. She shivered at the 
thought that Jake, and not she, might have found it there. 
The purple crest stood out conspicuous on the white envelope 
— a fox’s head with the motto: Sans vertu, underneath. 
She wondered what wild ancestor of his had designed the 
cynical device. 

Her hands were trembling as she tore open the flap. 
She was impatient, yet half-afraid. Her heart throbbed 
I hard at sight of the dashing scrawl once so familiar and so 
dear. 

“if a helle reine des roses ;'* — her heart throbbed a little 
faster. The old sweet name, how it brought back to her 
those free, happy days of her youth! How she marvelled 
now at the high, girlish pride that had sent him away. 
How cruel had been the cost of that same pride! 

She read on. It was a characteristic epistle, half-mock- 
jing, half-tender, throughout. Would she meet him again? 
But of course she would! Had she not said that he could 
serve her? But they would not risk another interruption. 
[ Would she be going to the Graydown races? If not, he 
t would manage to return early and come to her by the 
[garden way. They would thus be sure of at least half 
•an hour together before anyone else got back. He seemed 
confident that she would not refuse, and she knew, even 
as she read, that she could not. She must see him somehow. 


372 


The Hundredth Chance 


She must somehow get back to normal relations with him. 
She could not sacrifice his friendship to that one night’s 
madness. Besides, there was her mother. 

A trampling of hoofs in the yard below drew her to the 
window. She looked forth. 

It was the Albatross being led out of his stable for the 
evening canter. 

Dick Stevens held the bridle. He wore a heavy, glower- 
ing look. She remembered — and the memory seemed to 
scorch her — that morning after her wedding-day when she 
had stood and listened in petrified horror to Jake pouring 
forth terrible invective upon the lad’s head. 

He was standing by now, watching with a frown, as 
though the boy’s movements displeased him; and even as 
she looked he went forward and took the bridle into his 
own hand. 

Stevens stood aside sullenly, while he readjusted the 
bit with set lips. The Albatross nozzled against him, and 
after a few moments Jake’s hand went to his pocket and 
brought forth a piece of sugar. 

Then, while the animal munched it, he turned round 
upon the sulky stable-boy and spoke. 

“If any harm comes to him through any damn’ careless- 
ness of yours, I warn you, — and I’m a man of my word — • 
I’ll leather you to a jelly, if it costs me fifty pounds.” 

His words were quiet, but absolutely distinct. His 
right hand was hard gripped on his riding- whip. 

Stevens slunk back a step, not speaking, his face crimson 
and defiant. 

Maud at the upper window clasped her hands suddenly 
and very tightly upon the letter they held. Yes, he was a 
man of his word. And what if he kept that other promise 
he had made to her? Life alone on a ranch with Jake! 
Her whole being rose in revolt at the thought. She turned 
away with a shudder. 


CHAPTER X 


THE MISTAKE 

T he day fixed for the race for the Burchester Cup 
was inclined to be showery. Jake was up at an 
early hour, and when he was gone Maud rose also. But 
she felt too languid to bestir herself very greatly. She sat 
by the open window, breathing the pure morning air, and 
wondering, wondering, what the day would bring forth. 

Since the receipt of Saltash’s letter, she had been making 
up her mind. That she must see him alone that day was 
inevitable, but she had formed a strong determination that 
for the future she would put bounds to their intercoirrse. 
It could but lead in the one hopeless direction. Moreover, 
open friendship between them had become, owing to Jake’s 
prohibition, impossible. 

She did not blame Saltash for what had happened, but 
bitterly she blamed herself. She had been carried away 
by the moment’s madness. Her feet had slipped. But 
the determination to retrace that false step was strong 
within her. For Charlie’s sake, as well as for her own, she 
knew that they must not go on. With fatal clearness she 
realized that it was the downward path leading to destruc- 
tion. It had never attracted her before her marriage, that 
downward path. The care of Bunny had absorbed her 
life. But now that her life was empty of all but the bondage 
she hated, she faced the fact that her resolution had begun 
to waver. She could no longer trust herself to stand firm. 

373 


374 


The Hundredth Chance 


Sitting there, drinking in the refreshing F coolness of 
the rain-washed air, feeling the sweet mo: ring chill all 
about her, something of that innate purity of lUrs seemed to 
revive. Some of the bitterness went from her soul. She 
was very, very tired; but after long medication she had 
begun to see her way more clearly. Perhaps dimly the 
future had begun to draw her. Yes, her life was empty 
now. But in a little while — a little v/hile — A deep, deep 
breath escaped her. The memory of Mrs. Wright and her 
confident words of wisdom came to her. Her life would 
not be always a dreary wandering in a desert land. Pris- 
oner she might be, but even so, the flowers might bloom 
around her, within her reach. 

A little tremor went through her. Ah yes, it might be 
there were compensations in store, even for her. Her life 
would not be always empty. 

A kind of waking dream came upon her. It was as 
though a soothing hand had been laid upon her, stilling 
her wild rebellion, giving her hope. The kaleidoscope of 
life was changing every day. Why should she despair? 

When she descended to breakfast, she was calmer, more 
at peace with herself, than she had been for long. 

She found Capper waiting alone. He gave her his 
quick, keen look, but characteristically he made no com- 
ment upon what he saw. 

“I am wondering how I shall catch the boat-train to- 
night, ” he said. 

“Must you do so?” she asked. 

He nodded vigorously. “Indeed I must. I have tres- 
passed upon your hospitality quite long enough. And 
there is work waiting across the Atlantic that only Maurice 
Capper can do.” 

She smiled at him. “ How indefatigable you are ! Won’t 
it wait a little longer?” 

“Not a day!” declared Capper. 


The Mistake 


375 


And neither of them dreamed that that same work 
would have to wait many days ere Maurice Capper was at 
liberty to handle it. 

They sat down alone to breakfast. Jake and Bunny had 
had their meal long before. 

“There's no holding the boy this morning," Capper 
observed. “It will be a good thing now when you can get 
him off to school, Mrs. Bolton. He’ll grow quicker there 
than anywhere." 

Maud looked up quickly. “You think so?" 

He smiled. “I have told Jake so. He, I believe, is 
waiting till these all-absorbing races are over to consult 
: you on the subject." 

; Maud’s eyes fell. “He won’t do that," she said, in a 
low voice. “He and Bunny will settle it between them, 
and I shall be told afterwards." 

“That so?" said Capper. “Then, if I may take the 
liberty to advise you, madam, I should consult them 
first." 

She shook her head in silence. How could she even 
begin to tell Capper of the utter lack of sympathy between 
herself and Jake? 

“And you really think he is fit to go to school, and fend 
for himself?" she asked, after a moment. 

“Do him all the good in the world," said Capper. He 
added kindly: “Guess you’ll miss him some, my dear; 
but believe me you won’t be sorry when you see what it 
does for him.’’ 

“Oh no, I shall never be sorry on his account," she 
said. 

And there the subject ended, but before she left the 
breakfast table she found an opportunity to acquaint him 
with her decision to remain at home that day. 

He expressed regret but not surprise. “You are wise 
not to overtire yourself, ’’ he said. 


376 


The Hundredth Chance 


She became aware again of the green eyes surveying her 
for a moment, and coloured. “I — am not sleeping very 
well, ” she said, with an effort. 

He nodded as one who fully understood. “Take things 
easily!” he said. “Don’t fret over ’em! Let the world 
goby!” 

She got up, moved by an impulse curiously insistent. 
“Dr. Capper,” she said, “it — it’s rather a difficult world, 
isn’t it?” 

Her voice had a quiver of wistfulness in it. He reached 
out a hand at once that sought and held hers. “My dear 
Mrs. Bolton, ” he said, “we live too hard — all of us. That’s 
nine-tenths of the trouble. It’s because we won’t trust the 
Hand on the helm. We’re all so mighty anxious to do our 
own steering, and we don’t know a thing about it.” 

The hold of the thin yellow fingers was full of kindly 
comfort. There was nothing disconcerting in the shrewd 
green eyes that looked into hers. 

“I think you’ll be happier presently, you know,” he 
said. “It seems to me that two people I’m mighty fond 
of have got wandering off their bearings in the wilderness. 
They’ll find each other presently and then, I guess, that 
same wilderness will blossom into a garden and they’ll 
settle down in comfort and enjoy themselves.” 

He pressed her hand, and released it, making it evident 
that he had no intention of pursuing the matter further 
without definite encouragement. And Maud gave him 
none. Something in her shrank from doing so. He was 
Jake’s friend before he was hers. 

The day seemed very long. It was oppressive also, 
gleams of sunshine alternating with occasional heavy 
thunder showers. 

She was lying in a hammock-chair under the trees in the 
orchard with Chops at her feet when Jake came striding 
through at the last moment to find her. 


The Mistake 


377 


“Capper tells me you don’t feel up to coming,” he said. 

She barely glanced up from the book in her lap, she did 
not want to meet his eyes. “I didn’t tell him so,” she 
said. 

“But it is so?” insisted Jake. 

“I have decided not to come, certainly,” she said, feeling 
her heart jerk apprehensively as she made the statement. 

He stood a moment in silence, then bent unexpectedly, 
took her by the chin, and turned her face up to his own. 
It was flooded with scarlet on the instant ; her eyes flinched 
away from his. 

He held her so for several seconds, looking at her, merci- 
lessly watching that agonizing blush, till it faded under 
his eyes, leaving her white to the lips. Then, without 
I another word, he let her go. 

She heard the jingle of his spurs as he went away, and 
for a long time after she lay as he had left her, too un- 
nerved to move. What could he know? How much did 
he suspect? She felt cold to the very heart of her, stricken 
and sick with fear. He had not so much as kissed her in 
his brutal, domineering way, and that fact disquieted her 
more than any other. Though she hated the touch of his 
lips she would have welcomed it thankfully in that hour of 
sickening apprehension only to feel reassured and safe. 

The patter of rain roused her to activity and drove her 
back to the house, in time to meet "Mrs. Lovelace hastening 
forth with an umbrella to her rescue. 

“You shouldn’t be sitting out there, ma’am, on a day 
like this,” the old woman said. “And, lawk-a-massy, you 
do look bad!” 

Maud tried to smile. “I am not bad, Mrs. Lovelace. 
It’s only the heat.” 

Mrs. Lovelace pursed her lips and looked severely in- 
credulous. “You’d best lie down, ma’am, ” she said. “I’ll 
bring your lunch immediately. 


378 


The Hundredth Chance 


She bustled away, and Maud sank on the couch in the 
parlour and strove to compose herself. But she could not 
with that awful fear coiled like a snake about her heart. 
A terrible restlessness possessed her. It was impossible 
to remain still. 

If she could only send a message to Charlie, warning him 
not to come! But that was impossible. She knew that no 
message could reach him now. He would have to come, 
and Jake would know of it. Manoeuvre as she might, those 
lynx -eyes would wrest from her the secret. She knew her- 
self powerless to withstand them. 

She made scarcely any pretence to eat the luncheon that 
Mrs. Lovelace brought her. She had never before been in 
such a ferment of disquietude. Those few awful moments 
of Jake's silent scrutiny had shaken her to the very founda- 
tions of her being. She felt that he had ruthlessly forced 
his way past her defences and looked upon her naked soul. 
And she realized that he had spoken the truth when he had 
said that she could not deceive him. He could tear her 
reserve from her like a garment and expose her most secret 
thoughts. 

She spent most of the afternoon in pacing to and fro, 
for she could not rest. Her feet were soaked with the 
drenched orchard grass, but she did not know it. Her 
limbs were strung to a feverish activity. There were times 
when she thought she would go mad. 

The hours crawled by leaden-footed. She did not know 
in the least when Charlie would come, but she began to 
expect him long before he could possibly arrive, and the 
waiting became a torment that chafed her intolerably. 
If he would only come soon — so that she might make her 
petition and let him go 1 

Back and forth, back and forth, she wandered, conscious 
sometimes of a dreadful, physical sinking, but for the most 
part too torn with anxiety to be aware of anything else. 


The Mistake 


379 

And Chops paced with her in mute sympathy with her 
distress. 

The afternoon was beginning to wane towards evening 
when Mrs. Lovelace came forth once more in search of her — 
Mrs. Lovelace with prim, set lips, sternly disapproving. 

“You’ll make yourself bad if you go on, ma’am,” she 
said. “And if you please, Mrs. Wright is here, and I’m 
laying the cloth for tea.” 

“Mrs. Wright!” Maud looked at her with dazed eyes, 
bringing her thoughts back as it were from afar. 

“There she is!” said Mrs. Lovelace. 

And even as she spoke Maud caught sight of the com- 
fortable, portly figure standing on the steps. 

She gave a gasp that was almost a cry, and began to 
hasten towards her. 

Mrs. Wright on her part bustled down to meet her. 
“Don’t hurry, my dear, don’t! I’ve only just come. 
Why, how tired and white you look! There! Run along, 
Sarah, and get the tea, like a good soul! I’ll take care of 
Mrs. Bolton.” 

Her arm was already around Maud’s waist; she looked up 
at her with round eyes full of kindly concern. 

Maud bent to kiss her. “How — good of you to come!” 
she said. 

She herself was divided between relief and dismay; but 
the relief predominated. It would not matter now if 
Charlie came. She would have to write to him on her 
mother’s behalf. It was the only way. She believed 
she could evade Jake’s vigilance with a letter — so long as 
Charlie did not write to her. The anguish through which 
she had passed had made her realize that she must not, 
could not, take such a risk again. 

She clung to Mrs. Wright as to a deliverer. “Thank 
you for coming!” she said. 

Mrs. Wright had begun to steer sturdily for the house. 


The Hundredth Chance 


380 

"‘Lor’ bless you, dear, I’m as pleased as anything to come, ” 
she said. ‘‘Jake dropped in this morning casual-like, and 
happened to pass the remark as they was all going to the 
races but you. So I sent down to Tom’s young lady to be 
so kind as to come and mind the shop for me this afternoon, 
and after dinner I dressed myself and came along to keep 
you company. I could have got here an hour ago, but I 
thought as you’d be resting, and I knew as Sarah would 
be busy.” 

So it was Jake’s doing! He had taken this step to cir- 
cumvent her. Maud was conscious of a throb of anger 
against him, but her visitor’s guileless chatter made her 
stifle it. Mrs. Wright was so obviously unsuspecting. 

They ascended the steps together, Mrs. Wright’s arm 
stoutly assisting her. Then in the parlour she turned and 
looked at Maud. 

“If I was you, my dearie, I should lie right down and 
have a rest. And I’ll give you a drop of brandy in your 
tea.” 

She sank upon the sofa without protest. The reaction 
from those hours of feverish suspense was upon her. She 
felt exhausted in mind and body. 

Mrs. Wright attended upon her with the utmost kindness. 
She did not talk a great deal, for which forbearance Maud 
was mutely thankful. She was so unutterably tired, too 
tired even to protest against that drop of brandy in her 
tea upon which Mrs. Wright insisted. 

Ai-other hour went by, but there was no sign of Saltash’s 
coming. The evening was turning dark and wet. Maud 
lay on her sofa, sometimes dozing, sometimes talking 
abstractedly to her visitor. For Mrs. Wright was deter- 
mined to remain till Jake returned, and briskly said so. 
Maud did not want to combat the decision. She was 
glad to have her there. It seemed that Charlie was not 
coming after all. Something had detained him. Her 


The Mistake 


381 

1 anxiety had spent itself, but she felt terribly weak. The 
‘ comfort of the old woman’s tender care was too great to 
refuse. 

j She scarcely knew how the time went, so overpowering 
I was the languor that possessed her. The rainy sky brought 
I down an early dusk long before the setting of the sun. A 
brooding stillness hung upon all things through which the 
patter of the rain sounded with unvarying monotony. 

“Deary me! They will get wet,” sighed Mrs. Wright. 

Slowly the heavy clouds gathered and hung! Slowly the 
darkness deepened. 

Suddenly Maud raised herself, sat up, tensely listened. 
“What is that?” she said. 

Mrs. W^right looked at her. “I hear nothing but the 
; rain, dear.” 

Maud broke in upon her impatiently. “Yes, that — • 
that — that! Don’t you hear? What is it? 0 God, 

: what is it?” 

Her voice rose wildly. In a moment she had sprung 
: from her couch and was standing with caught breath, 

' listening. 

“My dearie, it’s only the rain,” said Mrs. Wright sooth- 
ingly. “Don’t let yourself get jumpy! There’s nothing 
there.” 

But Maud paid no attention to her. With a movement 
incredibly lewift she reached the door and threw it open. 

Then indeed Mrs. Wright heard sounds, muffled but 
■ undeniable, of some commotion in the stable-yard. “I 
: expect they’ve just got home, dear,” she said. “And 
very wet they’ll be. Hadn’t you better tell Sarah to get 
i a nice hot brew of tea ready for ’em? Little Sir Brian will 
: be sure to want his tea.” 

But the rush of Maud’s feet along the oaken passage 
was her only answer. The girl went like the wind, urged 
by the most awful fear she had ever known. 


382 


The Hundredth Chance 


The front door was open. Bunny was on the step. 
But she brushed past him without so much as seeing him, 
tearing forth bare-headed, ashen-faced, into the rain. 

For there in the murky twilight, terrible as a lion newly 
roused, stood Jake, gripping by the collar a struggling, 
writhing figure, the while he administered to it as sound a 
horse-whipping as his great strength could accomplish. 
His right arm moved slowly, with a deliberate regularity 
unspeakably horrible to behold. She had a glimpse — only 
a glimpse — of his face, and the savage cruelty of it was such 
that it seemed no longer human. Of his victim she saw 
very little, but of his identity not the smallest doubt existed 
in her mind; and as the sound of those awful blows reached 
her, the last shred of her endurance was torn away. She 
shrieked and shrieked again as she ran. 

Those shrieks reached Jake as the cry of its mate in 
distress might reach an animal intent upon its prey. He 
flung the prey from him on the instant and wheeled. He 
met her a full ten yards from the spot, just as her feet 
slipped on the wet stones of the yard. He caught her — 
she almost fell against him — and held her hard in his arms. 

She was sobbing terribly, utterly unstrung, hysterical. 
She struggled for speech, but the wild sounds that left her 
lips were wholly unintelligible. She struggled to free 
herself, but her strength was gone. In the end, her knees 
suddenly gave way under her. She collapsed with a gasping 
cry. And Jake, stooping, raised her, and bore her in sense- 
less out of the drenehing rain. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE REASON 

“ W OU’VE only yourself to thank, ” said Capper. He 
I tugged irritably at his pointed yellow beard. His 
, eyes were moody under brows that frowned. “You might 
■: have known what to expect if you’d had an ounce of 
i sense.” 

“Guess I always was an all-fired fool,” said Jake. 

The great doctor looked down at him from his post on 
: the hearth, and his eyes softened a little. For Jake’s 
dejection was very thorough. He sat as it were in dust and 
. ashes. 

“Not always, my son,” he said. “But I guess you’ve 
! surpassed yourself on this occasion. Well, it’s done. She 
; may get over it, but she won’t love you any the better for 
it. It’ll be up to you to make a fresh start presently.” 

Jake was silent. He was not smoking. He sat with 
I bent head and lowered eyes. 

Capper contemplated him awhile, till at length a faint 
glint of humour began to shine in his green eyes. He 
moved, and laid a long, wiry hand upon Jake’s shoulder. 

“Say, Jake!” he said. “Don’t take it too hard, man! 
Let it be a lesson to you, that’s all. And the next time you 
want to whip a stable-boy, do it on the quiet, and there’ll 
be no misunderstandings. Guess you’ll have to sing small 
for a bit, but it’s not a hanging matter. She’ll forgive you 
by and by.” x 


383 


3^4 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Why should she?” Jake did not move his head or 
respond in any way to the friendly touch. 

“Because she’s that sort.” Capper spoke with stout 
conviction. “She won’t hold out against you when she 
sees you’re sorry. Don’t be afraid to tell her so, Jake! 
Don’t hide your soul!” 

Jake raised his head suddenly, looking full up at Capper 
with eyes that glowed red and sombre. “You don’t quite 
grasp the situation. Doc,” he said. “She won’t be sorry 
for this when she comes to herself. She never wanted to 
bear a child of mine. She loathes the very ground I walk 
on. She’d do most anything — most anything — ^to get 
quit of me. No, I reckon she won’t be sorry any. She’ll 
be — sort of — glad 1 ” 

“Oh, shucks!” Capper’s hand suddenly smote him 
hard. “You don’t know women. I tell you, you don’t 
know ’em!” 

“ I know one ! ” Jake’s voice was deadly calm. His eyes 
shone like a still, hot fire. “I thought I could win her, 
though the odds were dead against me. I staked all on the 
chance — the hundredth chance — and it’s gone. I’ve lost. 
There’s no sense in pretending otherwise. Now that this 
has happened I shan’t hold her any longer, unless it’s by 
brute force; and I reckon there’s more lost than gained 
that way. And yet I know — I know — ” his voice suddenly 
took a deeper note — “that where I’ve failed, no other man 
has ever yet succeeded. No one else has ever got to the 
heart of her. That I know.” 

He spoke with grim force, as though challenging incredul- 
ity on Capper’s part, but Capper made no attempt to 
contradict him. He even nodded as if he held the same 
opinion. 

“Then I guess it’s up to you to find the way,” he said. 
“There’s a better way for all of us than brute force, my 
son. There is a power that all the violence in the world 


The Reason 


385 

can’t l:)eat. It’s greater than all the devils. And you’ll 
i win out — you’ll win out — on the strength of it.” 

I He paused. Jake’s eyes had kindled a little. He set 
f his hands on the arms of his chair as though about to 
j rise. 

I '‘You get me?” Capper asked. 

i A faint smiile came over his face. “You speak as one 
{ who knows,” he said. . 

“ I do know. ” Capper’s voice was very emphatic. “ It’s 
' not an easy world to live in. It’s a mighty difficult one. 
t But we’ve been given a compass to steer by — a Divine 
i compass, Jake, my lad. Guess it’s our own fault in the 
main if we fail to get there.” "f* 

! He waited. The light was gradually growing in Jake’s 
V eyes. He had a speculative, half-doubtful look. 

“And yet you advised me to jump the hedge, ” he said. 

Capper smiled somewhat ruefully. “I didn’t tell you to 
burst your way through, did I?” he said. “You didn’t 
take it the right way, my son. You blundered, and it’s 
left a nasty breach. It’s not beyond repair, mind you. 
But it’ll take some patience and some faith before it’s 
all filled up. Set to work on it right now! You’ve got 
the materials. Use ’em — all you know! Show her what 
Love — ^real Love — is worth! She’s a woman. She’ll soon 
understand.” 

Jake got to his feet with the quiet, purposeful movement 
of a man who has work before him. He gripped Capper’s 
hand for a moment, and looked him straight in the face. 

“I reckon you’re right, sir,” he said, speaking rather 
heavily. “ I’ve made a damn’ muddle of the whole show. I 
was nearer to her — several lengths nearer — in the old days 
when we were just friends — just friends — ” his voice 
quivered slightly— “than I am now. Well, I reckon I 
must get back to the old footing. We’ll be— just friends— 
again.” 


386 


The Hundredth Chance 


He turned from Capper with the words, went to the 
mantelpiece and took up his pipe. 

The doctor watched him for awhile silently. There was a 
greatness about the man’s simplicity that commanded 
his respect. There was even an element of the superb 
in it. 

“I take off my hat, to you, Jake,” he said at length. 
“You’re a white man.” 

Jake’s head was bent over his pipe. He made a brief, 
contemptuous sound, and rammed it into his mouth. 
“We don’t all think alike,” he said. “Well, I must be 
going anyway. So long. Doc!” 

“Where are you off to?” Capper asked. 

He made a gesture as of one who contemplates an un- 
pleasant task. “I must go up to the Castle. I said I 
would. I’ve got to tell Lord Saltash how the Albatross 
failed this afternoon.” 

“But, man, he knows!” exclaimed Capper. “He was 
there!” 

Jake turned round. His pipe was alight. He puffed 
at it grimly. “Maybe he does. But it’s my duty to tell 
him all the sarnie. It may interest him also to hear that 
Stevens won’t be fit for the saddle again for a week or two. 
I’d have marked the young blackguard for life if I hadn’t 
been stopped.” His brows suddenly met fiercely. “I’d 
have got out of him what he did it for too — though I guess 
I know. When a hot favourite like the Albatross gets left 
behind like that there’s always a reason — a damn’ substantial 
reason — at the bottom of it. Oh, it’s a foul business,” he 
said bitterly. “I ought to have scratched sooner than 
run the chance of having him pulled. I never trusted 
Stevens — never. I’ll see him drawn and quartered before 
he ever rides another horse of mine!” 

“But you’ve no evidence?” suggested Capper. 

“I’ve the evidence of my own eyes,” said Jake bluntly. 


The Reason 


387 

‘'And there’ll be further evidence presently, or I’m a 
nigger.” 

“What do you mean? He’ll never own it.” 

“No.” Jake spoke with a savage disdain. “He won’t 
have the spunk for that. And he won’t have the spunk 
either to take out a siunmons for assault. He’ll just take 
it- all lying down. I know. I know.” 

He swung round on his heel to go, went as far as the door, 
then suddenly wheeled and came back. 

“Say, Capper!” he said, and all the savagery was gone 
• from his voice ; it held a note of pleading. “ She’ll get over 
it, sure?” 

Capper’s yellow face was full of kindness. He reached 
forth a hand that gripped hard. “Please God she’ll live 
to be the mother of your children yet, Jake!” he said. 

Jake drew a sharp breath. “God knows I don’t want 
her — just for that,” he said, with husky vehemence. 

And then abruptly, as if ashamed, he pulled his hand 
free and departed. 

Capper’s fingers sought his beard as the door closed. 
“You’re learning, Jake,” he said. “You’re learning. 
Wonder how soon she’ll begin to find out that there’s 
another man in the place where her husband used 
to be!” 

He coiled himself down into a chair, bending and cracking 
his long fingers with meditative zest. But the frown 
remained between his brows. If Capper the man was 
satisfied. Capper the doctor was very much the reverse. 
He was not dismayed, but he was anxious, more anxious 
than he deemed it necessary for anyone to know. 

“She’ll pull through,” he muttered to himself once. 
And again: “She must pull through.” 

But in hisj heart he knew that it was more than possible 
that his patient’s life might ebb out on the bitter tide of 
disappointment and misery even when the worst danger 


388 


The Hundredth Chance 


seemed to be over. She was so lonely in her trouble, so 
piteously bereft of all desire or incentive to live. 

Up in the room above, Maud lay, white and still, her 
dark hair all about her, her eyes closed, an aloofness that was 
almost like the shadow of Death wrapping her round. 

Mrs. Wright sat by her side, very alert and watchful. 
It was growing late, but she had long ago signified .her 
intention of remaining for the night. Very practical and 
sure of herself was Mrs. Wright. She and Dr. Capper were 
already firm allies. 

The night was close, and the windows were flung wide. 
The door into the adjoining room was wide open also, and a ' 
faint current of air eddied about the room, stirring now and 
again the chintz hangings of the old-fashioned bed, rustling 
occasionally the white muslin curtains at the window. 
The wash of the sea came up vaguely from the dark distance. 
It sounded like the far splashing of mighty oars. 

Near at hand, down in the dim garden there came some- 
times the mysterious movements of some small creature 
creeping stealthily through the bushes, and once or twice 
down in the orchard an owl hooted its weird, half-human 
signal. 

Mrs. Wright did not like the voice of the owl. She 
shivered whenever she heard it; but Maud lay as one obliv- 
ious of all things, drifting, drifting, on a great lonely sea on 
which no sun ever rose or star shone. 

Someone came into the adjoining room and stood in the 
open doorway. Mrs. Wright looked swiftly round. 

Jake’s eyes met hers, he made a brief sign for silence. 
Then, without sound, he crept in and stood against the 
bed-curtain, looking down mutely at his wife’s still face. 

Several seconds of complete silence followed, then, 
quite suddenly, as though someone had called her, she 
opened her eyes wide and turned her head. 

He drew back behind the curtain on the instant ere she 


The Reason 


389 

i could catch sight of him, standing motionless as a statue, 
not seeming so much as to breathe. 

A troubled frown gathered on Maud’s face; she made a 
restless movement. 

I At once Mrs. Wright bent to her from the other side of 
I the bed. ^‘What is it, my dearie? You’re not in pain?” 

I Maud was panting a little. She tried to raise herself, 
but was gently checked by a motherly hand. She took 
j and held it with trembling fingers, 
i ‘‘Mrs. Wright, — please — you won’t go!” she begged. 

“Surely not, my dear.” Stoutly Mrs. Wright made 
answer. “I’m going to take care of you all night long.” 
j But Maud was not wholly reassured. She clung faster to 
I the plump, soothing hand. “If Jake comes in, he — he will 
! want to send you away. Don’t let him, Mrs. Wright! 
: I — I can’t be alone with Jake to-night.” 

I She was becoming agitated, but Mrs. Wright gently 
hushed her. “You shan’t be, dearest. Jake wants me to 
be with you to-night. He is very unhappy about you, is 
poor Jake. Dear knows you needn’t be afraid of him.” 

“Oh, how can I help it after what he did to Charlie? 
Did you see? Did you see? Is Charlie very badly 
hurt?” 

“Charlie?” questioned Mrs. Wright. 

“Charlie Burchester — Lord Saltash. Didn’t you see 
what — what Jake did to him? Oh, it was terrible — 
terrible! ” A great shudder shook her at the remembrance 
I of what she had seen. 

“My dear! My dear!” Mrs. Wright leaned to her, 
smoothing her pillow. “Why, what a mistake to be sure! 
And to think you’ve put yourself out like this all for nothing ! 
Dear, dear, dear, to be sure! That wasn’t Lord Saltash, 
darling. Whatever made you think it was? It was just one 
of them pesky stable-boys as he was giving a jacketing to; 
and richly he deserved it. I’ll be bound.” 


390 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Oh, Mrs. Wright!” Maud's voice was suddenly eager. 
“Are you sure? Are you sure?” 

Her dark eyes, wide and beseeching, were raised in 
earnest questioning to her old friend’s kindly face. She 
clung to the sustaining hand. 

“ My dear, of course I’m sure. I came along behind you. 

I saw it all. It was that young dog, Dick Stevens. I know 
him well, never did like him ; and I’m s\ire he deserved all he 
got, probably more. Now you mustn’t worry yourself any 
longer. Leave it all to old Mother Wright and go to 
sleep! Will you, my dearie?” 

“You’re sure Charlie is safe?” Maud said quiveringly. ' 
“He — he was coming — don’t tell Jake! — ^to see me to-day. 
But he didn’t come. And I thought — I thought — Oh, 
are you sure Jake isn’t listening?” 

She broke off in sudden terror, starting up as if she 
would tear aside the curtain. But Mrs. Wright was 
swift to interpose. 

‘ ‘ My dear, you mustn’t upset yourself like this. It’s very 
wrong. What if Jake did know? Surely he would understand. 
He would know that there could be no reason why Lord Salt- 
ash should not drop in and see you in a friendly way now and 
then. Didn’t you tell me you were old friends?” 

“ Oh, you don’t know Jake!” moaned Maud. “He is so ter- 
rible — so terrible. He would shoot Charlie — if he knew!” 

“My dear!” Mrs. Wright was genuinely shocked. 
She threw a sharp glance towards the curtain. ‘ ‘ But there is 
no reason ! There can be no reason ! Y ou’re talking wildly. 
You can’t know what you’re saying.” 

Maud had sunk back upon her pillows, white-lipped, 
exhausted. “There is a reason,” she whispered. “There 
is a reason! I love Charlie. I have loved him for years. 
And Jake — Jake would kill him if he knew. He does 
know — a little. That’s why — why I am so — afraid. Oh, 

I wish — I wish I were — dead!” 


The Reason 


39t 


She ceased to speak, and a dreadful pallor crept up over 
her face. Mrs. Wright, anxiously watching, saw that she 
was slipping into unconsciousness, and across the bed she 
; issued a sharp command. 

“Quick, Jake! Go and fetch the doctor!’' 

The shadow behind the curtain vanished. Mrs. Wright 

1 reached for a fan. The heat was intense. The darkness 
hung before the window like a pall. And the good woman 
: trembled a little in spite of herself. She felt as if the Angel 
i of Death had suddenly entered the quiet room to share 
her watch. 


CHAPTER XII 


REFUGE 

“OO you’ve come to see your old uncle at last! Dear 
O me, you’ve been a precious long time about it. Tut, 
tut, child, what a clothes-peg to be sure! Sit down. Sit 
down! You don’t look fit to stand.” 

Old Uncle Edward pulled out a chair from his dining- 
room table and almost thrust his visitor into it. Then he 
turned, seized a decanter, and poured some wine into a 
large old-fashioned glass goblet. 

“You drink this! It’s good stuff — older than you are. 
It’ll turn to blood in your veins, and a good thing too. 
You look as if you hadn’t got more than a thin half-pint in 
the whole of your constitution. There! That’s better. 
Don’t be afraid of it! Don’t be afraid of it! Take an- 
other . dose before you start talking ! I know what you 
women are once your tongues get going. Take another 
dose, I say! You’re looking half-dead. What have 
they been doing to you? Starving you?” 

His grey whiskers seemed to bristle with indignation as 
he asked the question; his eyes glared at her like the eyes 
of a terrier on the hunt. Maud sat in the red velvet chair 
with a feeling of vast unreality. It was true that she was 
feeling almost too weak to stand, and her weakness imparted 
to her an odd desire to cry. The gruff kindliness of her 
reception made her feel like a lost child brought home to a 

392 


Refuge 393 

kind but somewhat severe parent. She drank the wine 
in almost unbroken silence. 

Uncle Edward stood looking on, sternly critical. “So 
I you’ve been ill, have you? I can see you have. Poor girl, 
i poor girl! Well, we must see what we can do, to get you 
strong again. And you haven’t brought your young 
brother along? How is he? Quite cured?” 

“Yes, quite cured.” Maud put out a hesitating hand 
; and somewhat shyly slipped it into her uncle’s. “He is 
quite cured,” she said, forcing a difficult smile. “And he 
would have come too — it was so good of you to ask him — 
only it is September, and the school will soon be opening; 
and it seemed a pity not to let him go at the beginning of 
the term. We all thought so.” 

Uncle Edward grunted as if not wholly pleased. But 
his old knotted fingers closed very kindly about her own. 
“So your good husband is going to pay for his schooling, 

! is he? That’s very generous of him — ^very generous, in- 
: deed. He’s a man of property, is he, — ^your Jake?” 

A quick flush rose in Maud’s upttuned face; she averted 
it swiftly. “I don’t know. He seems to be able to do 
I anything he likes. He — he is very kind to Bunny.” 

Uncle Edward grunted again. “Well, and how do you 
amuse yourself, now that the all-important Bunny is off 
your hands? I suppose you play the busy housewife, do 
you?” 

Maud uttered a faint laugh as forced as her smile had 
been. “Oh no. I don’t do anything. There is an old 
woman who cooks and does everything. I really can’t 
think of anything that I do. Of course lately — ^just lately 
— I haven’t been able to do things. But everything goes 
. very well without me.” 

Uncle Edward squeezed her hand and released it. 

You’ve too humble an opinion of yourself, my dear. 

. Most women get uppish when they marry. I don’t as a 


394 


The Hundredth Chance 


rule like young married women for that reason. They 
think all the world stands still to admire ’em. But you — ■ 
well, you’re different. You and I will get on together.” 

He smiled upon her so suddenly and so genially that she 
felt as if a burst of sunshine had warmed her tired soul. 
She lifted her face with a gesture that was half-instinctive, 
and he stooped at once and kissed it. 

“You’re a very pretty young woman,’* he said," patting 
her cheek paternally. “At least you might be, if you 
weren’t so painfully thin. You’ve been very ill, I can see. 
You’re hardly fit to travel alone now. Why didn’t 
you tell me? I’d have come and fetched you if I’d 
known.” 

“Oh, I didn’t travel alone,” she said. “I had Dr. 
Capper with me. I shouldn’t have come so soon but for 
him. He was going to the docks, and he offered to bring 
me and take care of me. He knew how dreadfully I wanted 
to get away.” 

“And who may Dr. Capper be?” Uncle Edward 
demanded grimly. 

“He is a very great American surgeon — a friend of 
Jake’s. He was with us when — when I began to be ill. 
And — and I have been in his hands ever since.” Maud 
spoke haltingly. “ He is a very kind man, ” she said. “I 
don’t think I should have lived if it hadn’t been for him. 
He made me live.” 

“Oh, he’s one of your quacks, is he?” Uncle Edward 
spoke with a mighty contempt. “Well, I thank Heaven 
I’ve never called in a doctor all my life, andl consider it’s one 
of the chief reasons why I’ve lived so long. People think a 
deal too much about their health nowadays. The world 
is getting neurotic. Plenty of fresh air and exercise, and 
good wholesome food. That’s my motto. No beastly 
doctors’ messes for me. Now that man of yours, he’s a 
healthy animal. I’ll be bound. I liked the looks of him. 


Refuge 395 

and the ways of him too. A bit off-hand, but straight and 
clean. He’s been good to you, has he?” 

He shot the question with an abruptness that found 
Maud wholly unprepared. She made an involuntary 
movement of shrinking. 

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Uncle Edward. “He’s been 
high-handed, I gather. Just what I expected. If a man 
doesn’t make love to a woman before he marries her, he’ll 
never be bothered to after. Silly fool! Silly fool! Still, 
you might have done worse. Don’t take him too seriously, 
my dear! Tip him off his perch if he crows too loud! ” 

Maud smiled her faint sad smile and rose. “I am not 
complaining of anyone. Uncle Edward. You mustn’t 
jump to conclusions. And you musn’t call Dr. Capper a 
quack, for he has healed Bunny. Now, may I please go 
up to my room? I know you are busy, and I shall be glad 
to rest for a little if I may.” 

“Go by all means!” said Uncle Edward. “You’re to do ^ 
exactly as you like in this house. Consider the whole 
show at your disposal! Come and go exactly as you will!” 
He drew her to him abruptly and kissed her a second time. 
“Be happy, my dear!” he said. “Be happy! You won’t 
be young always, and there’s not much fun to be had when 
you’re old — specially if you’re alone. But you’ll never 
be that, please Heaven. You’ll have your children and 
your children’s children growing up around you — even 
when you’re old.” 

He paused, holding her, for Maud had suddenly hidden 
her face against his shoulder. “I can’t look forward — 
like that” she whispered. “I often think — that I’d rather 
■ — live alone.” 

There was a pathos in her words that bordered upon 
tragedy. Uncle Edward thrust a protecting arm about her, 
rasping his throat as if something had made it smart. “Tut, 
tut! ” he said. “You wouldn’t enjoy it for long. There’s 


396 


The Hundredth Chance 


precious little fun in the lonely life, I can tell you, for I 
know. I sit here on a Sunday and listen to the quiet till 
even the racket of a dog-fight would be welcome. We’re 
all the same, I expect; wanting what we haven’t got instead 
of making the best of what we have. I should think the 
Almighty must smile sometimes at the very contrariness 
of us.” 

He patted her shoulder as she lifted her head, looking at 
her with his keen grey eyes that held humour as well as 
sympathy. 

•“You’ll have plenty of solitude in this establishment, 
anyhow,” he said. “You can soak yourself in it all day 
long. There’s a library that may amuse you, but that’s 
all I can offer in the way of entertainment.” 

“Oh, I don’t want entertainment,” Maud assured him. 

“You’re singularly unlike your mother,” was Uncle 
Edward’s comment. 

He did not ask her how her mother was faring, and she 
did not feel that the moment for speaking of her affairs 
had arrived. There was a touch of the formidable about 
the old man, all his kindness to her notwithstanding; and 
she felt too tired and ill for a difficult discussion. She 
wanted to lie down and rest for a long, long time. 

This visit to Uncle Edward meant deliverance to her 
from a yoke too heavy to be borne. All through her illness 
she had yearned for, striven for, this escape; and because 
of this intense longing of hers. Capper, realizing that dis- 
appointment could but retard her progress, had set himself 
to further her desire. 

Jake had offered no opposition to it. She had scarcely 
seen Jake since the night of the races, and not once had 
they beei^lone together. He had bidden her farewell that 
morning in Capper’s presence briefly, almost coldly. There 
had not been even so much as a touch of hands between 
them at parting. He had got into the carriage after them. 


; Refuge 397 

' it was true, and had wrapped a rug about her knees; but he 
' had done it without any personal solicitude or show of 
sympathy. Only at the very last, just as the train started, 
had he looked her in the face; and then as it were half 
against his will he had turned his eyes upon her. 

' And the memory of that look had gone with her through- 
! out the journey; it was to haunt her for many days with a 
i strange poignancy. For the red-brown eyes had held no 
i‘ mastery, no passion, only a dumb misery that had somehow 

I gone to her heart. Why had he looked at her like that? 

II Why was he so unhappy? Had he wanted to speak to her 
iiand failed for lack of words? Did he blame himself at 
'iall for what had happened? Did he desire in any way to 

make amends? 

I She had thought that to escape from his proximity would 
have been sheer relief, but now that she actually found 
herself free from all possibility of seeing him she was curi- 
ously perturbed by the thought of him. She had an odd 
little regret that she had not waved a hand to him as the 
train had borne her away. Just a friendly wave to show 
him that she harboured no resentment any longer! She 
i might have done it, but for an overpowering shyness that 
■ had prevented any expression of farewell. Ill though she 
: was, ill and weary, she could have made him that sign of 
friendship and been none the worse for it. 

But reserve had held her back. It towered between 
them, a barrier more insurmountable than it had ever 
been before. And behind that reserve her whole being 
crouched in fear. For she had begun to tell herself over 
and over, over and over, like a panic-stricken child, that 
once away from him she could never return, never, face 
again that which she had faced. 

Possibly he had begun to realize this also; possibly that 
was why he had looked at her so. Would he accept it as 
inevitable, she wondered? Would he, now that she had 


398 


The Hundredth Chance 


dragged herself free for a space from a bondage unendur- 
able, be merciful and let her go altogether? 

There was her promise. Oh yes, there was her promise. 
But might not that promise now be regarded as fulfilled? 
She had striven to do her duty, but it had proved too hard 
for her. Surely he must see that now! Surely he could 
not wish to hold her any longer against her will! The 
thought tortured her. She was like a hunted creatme in a 
temporary refuge all exits from which were barred. If 
she made a final dash for freedom and the open, she would 
almost certainly be trapped. 

Against her will the thought of Charlie went through her 
like a flaming sword; — Charlie who had sworn to be a 
friend to her — Charlie from whom she had not heard one 
single word since that awful day that she had awaited him 
in vain. No one had spoken to her of him, but that he was 
no longer at the Castle she was fairly convinced. He had, 
as it were, darted like a fire-fly into her ken and out of it 
again. But he would return. She was sure he would 
return. And when he came— what then? What then? 

She did not ask herself why he had gone in that sudden 
fashion. It was so characteristic of the man that she 
saw nothing in it. That there had been no encounter 
between him and Jake she was now certain. Perhaps 
he had gone away for her sake in order to avert Jake’s 
suspicion. His complete silence seemed to point to this. 
But it was quite useless to speculate. His ways were 
past understanding, so vague was her knowledge of the 
motive that governed his actions. 

Meanwhile the problem of her mother’s difficulties re- 
mained and was becoming more and more acute. The 
place had been mortgaged by Sheppard to Saltash’s pre- 
decessor who had had a fancy for possessing the whole of 
Fairharbour; and the affairs of the landlord of the Anchor 
Hotel had been on the downward trend ever since. Occa- 


399 


Refuge 

sionally a good season would arrest this decline for a space; 
but good seasons were becoming more and more rare. 
Giles Sheppard sought consolation too often in his cellars, 
and the management was no longer what it had been. 
Regular visitors were beginning to desert him in conse- 
quence, and the downward slope was rapidly becoming 
precipitous. Saltash’s man of business was tightening 
his hold, and Sheppard’s tenure of the place was becoming 
week by week more uncertain. 

All of this Maud knew. Her mother was growing 
desperate. Her life, it seemed, had been nothing but a 
series of misfortunes, and this threatened to be the greatest 
of them all. Giles had deceived her outrageously, and 
now that he had seciured her he cared for her no longer, 
save when his frequent libations rendered him tipsily 
amorous. Something of a vixenish nature was beginning to 
develop in Mrs. Sheppard. She was no more the gentle, 
plaintive creature she had been. She had once — and 
only once — approached Jake on the subject of financial 
help. Maud was unaware of this. Jake’s reply had been 
perfectly courteous but uncompromisingly firm. He would 
give Mrs. Sheppard shelter, if she ever needed it, but he 
would have nothing to do with her husband or his affairs. 
Mrs. Sheppard had turned from him with a bitter look 
that had said more than words. And since that day 
she had steadily avoided all intercourse even with her 
daughter, declaring herself far too busy to get as far as the 
Stables. 

Maud had not needed her; but none the less she was 
uneasy about her. She wished she knew where Charlie 
was; but she could not risk sending a letter to the Castle. 
There seemed to be nothing more she could do. She had 
begun to tell him of her trouble. He knew she needed 
help. Possibly even he might without further persuasion 
refrain from carrying matters to extremes. She had 


400 


The Hundredth Chance 


mentioned her mother to him. He must have understood. 
He would surely remember her distress. 

And yet whenever her thoughts turned towards him the 
memory of Jake’s words awoke within her, tormented her: 

Trust him, and he will let you down, — sure.” Why 
had he spoken so certainly? What did he know of Salt ash 
and his ways? Was it possible — could it be — that he knew 
a side of Charlie’s whimsical nature that had never been 
presented to her? Or was she so blind that she had failed 
to perceive it? It was true that in the old days he had 
failed her, he had wavered in his allegiance. But he had 
come back. He had come back. Always she remembered 
that. And because he had come back, her heart had 
warmed to him again, against her will, against her judgment, 
even in spite of every instinct. He belonged to her; that 
was the thought that flashed with such a burning intensity 
through her soul, the thought that refused utterly to be 
stifled or put away, He belonged to her and to none other, 
trifle or intrigue as he might. She was his fate. How often 
he had said it! And so he would return. She was sure 
he would return. And when he came — what then? Ah, 
what then? 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE LAMP BEFORE THE ALTAR 

L ife at Uncle Edward’s was as he had predicted a very- 
quiet affair indeed, but Maud slipped into it very 
easily, with a sense of comfort at her heart. It had a 
healing effect upon her. It stilled the fevered unrest of 
her spirit. It was all so well-ordered, so methodical. It 
soothed her, gave her a sense of normality and peace. 
Her physical strength came back to her with a rapidity 
that surprised herself, and with its return she found herself 
I beginning to look upon the world with new eyes, found 
herself able to thrust dark thoughts and problems into the 
I background, found herself at rest. 

1 At Uncle Edward’s suggestion, she wrote once a week 
to Jake. It was not easy to write, but when her uncle re- 
marked that the young man would probably come tearing 
hell-for-leather across England to find out what was the 
matter if she didn’t, she deemed it the wiser course to 
follow. Her letters were very brief, very formal, and the 
letters she received in reply were equally so. She was sure 
that they were penned in that cheerless little den of his 
that faced north and overlooked the stable-yard. 

Bunny’s letters were very few and far between. He 
was completely engrossed with the thought of the new life 
at school upon which he was about to enter, and it was 
very plain to Maud that he missed her not at all. The 
fact had ceased to hurt her as poignantly as when she first 
36 401 


402 


The Hundredth Chance 


discovered it. Empty though her life was, she had learned 
by degrees to do without him. She was learning day by 
day to endure that emptiness with patience, for by some 
secret instinct she knew that it would not be her portion for 
ever. 

Not far from her uncle’s house, at the corner of a busy 
street, there stood an old grey church. The doors were 
always open, and one day she dropped in to rest. 

It was the first visit of many. The place was infinitely 
peaceful, full of silence and soft shadows. A red light 
burned ever before the altar, and there were always beautiful 
flowers upon it, white lilies that never seemed to fade. 
She loved to draw near and smell the incense of those 
flowers, to gaze upon their shining purity, to feel with awe 
that the ground beneath her feet was holy. 

She did not often turn her eyes upon the lamp that 
burned so still and red. It was always the flowers that 
drew her, the fragrance of them that comforted her soul. 

Once, on a golden afternoon in mid-September, she came 
in late and stayed for the evening service; and then it was 
that, sitting in the body of the church, she found herself 
gazing, gazing, not at the flowers, but at the red, mystic 
flame that burned unflickering before the altar. It re- 
minded her of something, that still red flame, — something 
that made her want to flee away and hide. It came between 
her and her prayers. It lay in wait for her in her dreams. 

And yet when Simday evening came and Uncle Edward 
prepared to sally forth alone, she put forward a tentative 
suggestion that she should accompany him. 

He was delighted with the proposal, and as they fared 
forth together, his horny old hand was on her arm, making 
her glad that she was with him. 

They sat near the door, and she was secretly relieved. 
In the glare of many lights all down the body of the church, 
the gleam of that one red light was swallowed up and she 


403 


' The Lamp Before the Altar 

[ saw only the flowers. It was a beautiful service — a har- 

I monious whole in which no individual note was struck. 

[ The man who officiated was young and very quiet, and not 
till he ascended the pulpit was she aware of anything out 
of the ordinary in his personality. It came to her then 
instantaneously, like a flash-light piercing her soul. He 
struck no attitudes, made no visible attempt to gain the 
attention of his audience; but it was fully his from the 
moment he began to speak. He preached, not as one 
delivering a discourse, but with the absolute simplicity 
of a man who speaks from his heart. “Let your lights be 
burning, ” were the words he first uttered, and then without 
preamble he began to talk of Love — Love Divine, Uncon- 
querable, Eternal — Love that stoops but is never small — • 
Love that soars, but is never out of reach. He spoke of 
the great warfare of the spirit, of the thousand difficulties 
holding back the soul. And he declared that Love was the 
one great weapon to meet and overcome them all. “We 
do not know the power of Love,” he said. “We only 
know that it is invincible and undying — the very Essence 
of God.” He spoke of spiritual blindness, and swept it 
aside as nought. “We may not all of us be able to believe; 
but we can all have Love. Nothing counts in the same 
way. However blind we may be, we can keep that one 
lamp burning in the darkness, burning in the desert, 
giving light to the outcast, and guiding the feet of the 
wanderers.” 

It was while he was speaking thus that the lights in the 
body of the church went down and the red flame before the 
altar shone clear and unchanging in the gloom. Maud’s 
eyes were drawn instantly to it, became riveted upon it. 
She sat with bated breath, almost as one who watched a 
miracle. And by some strange telepathy the man in the 
pulpit became aware of it also. He turned towards it. 

“Look at that light!” he said. “It is kept burning 


404 


The Hundredth Chance 


perpetually, the symbol of undying worship, undying Love. 
Everyone may keep such a light as that burning always. 
The spark is ours for the kindling. It may be placed before 
the Altar of an Unknown God. But none the less is it 
offered to His Glory and immortal. It is not faith or hope 
that the soul needs above all things. It is Love, the power 
to love, and the power to create love — the will to offer 
love perpetually before the Altar of Love. It is only love 
that counts in the long run, only love that survives. There 
may be a thousand other things around us when we die, 
good and evil, but the only thing we shall carry with us 
beyond is that lamp that we have always kept burning 
before the altar and never suffered to go out. It is no 
easy thing to keep it always burning in this world of many, 
failures. It is bound to flicker sometimes, even to die 
down ; but while we live, the power to revive it is still ours, 
the power to worship God with love.” He paused a mo- 
ment, turned slowly back to face the dim nave, and then 
very quietly he gave utterance to words that Maud was 
never to forget. “We all want Love, hunger for it, starve 
for it. Our lives are mere ash-heaps without it. But do we 
all realize that love is only gained by love, that we must 
pour out all we have to win it, that we must purge our 
hearts of all selfish desire, sanctify ourselves by self-sacrifice, 
by the complete renunciation of self, before the perfect 
gift can be ours? Love is a joyful sacrifice. There are 
people whom everyone loves. They are the people who 
realize what Love means, who give and give, without 
measure, not counting the cost, rejoicing only in the power 
to give, till it all comes back to them a thousandfold. It is 
then that the ploughman overtakes the reaper, for plough- 
man and reaper are one.” 

When Maud lay down that night, those words were 
still running in her mind. That unstinted giving, that 
measureless pouring out, that utter sacrifice, were these 


The Lamp Before the Altar 405 

indeed the means by which the desert could be made to 
blossom — even for her? 

She slept sooner than usual, but the echoes of that 
quiet voice still followed her down through the deeps of 
slumber, till she dreamed that she was back before that shin- 
ing altar of flowers. And a radiance that was not of earth 
was all about her— a radiance unimaginable that was 
warmth as well as light; and looking up she saw that it 
came from the red lamp above her — the symbol of undying 
Love. 

As in a trance she waited, for the wonder of the thing 
held her spellbound. And while she waited, she became 
aware of someone else in the holy place, someone who 
moved stealthily, as if half-afraid. And turning, by the 
light of that revealing glow, she saw her husband with that 
look of silent misery in his eyes. 

It pierced her then as it had not pierced her before. She 
was conscious of an almost fierce impulse to comfort, an 
impulse that urged her to him, banishing all hesitation, all 
doubt. She went near to him, she gave him both her hands* 
i And even as she did so, the look in his eyes changed. She 
saw a deep, still fire come into them. It seemed to be 
reflected from the red lamp above. He moved forward 
with her into the glow. 

And suddenly her own eyes were opened and she knew 
that he loved her — he loved her. . . . 

Then she awoke with a palpitating heart and realized 
that it was a dream. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE OPEN DOOR 

N ot till she had been in her uncle’s house for close 
upon four weeks did Maud brace herself to speak to 
him of her mother. She had been on the verge of doing 
so many times, but always, in his bluff fashion, he had 
managed to convey to her that the subject was not to be 
broached. 

But for an urgent letter from Mrs. Sheppard herself, she 
would scarcely have summoned the courage to break through 
what was almost a prohibition, for Uncle Edward was not 
an easy man to resist; and even as she did so, she knew 
with absolute conviction that her effort was foredoomed to 
failure. She scarcely knew how to make it, so uncom- 
promising was the old man’s attitude, and when at last it 
was made, when in desperation she forced herself to tell 
him of her mother’s pitiable plight, she regretted it almost 
immediately so curtly was her information received. She 
saw that Uncle Edward was really angry though he said 
but little. She also saw that what she said on her mother’s 
behalf made not the smallest impression upon his will. 
He heard her out indeed, but so grimly that at length, 
feeling that she was presenting the matter quite inadequately 
in face of his total lack of sympathy, she gave him her 
mother’s hysterical appeal to read. 

He shook his head at first, but finally, as she pressed 
it upon him almost tearfully, he took and read the letter. 

406 


The Open Door 407 

: Then, while anxiously she watched him, he tore it across 
and across and flung it back to her over the table. 

“Pshaw!” he said. “The v/oman’s a hypocrite — a con- 
; founded impostor. I know her. You don’t. Leave her 
alone, and let her sink!” 

And with that he stumped angrily from the room with 
I beetling brows and fiery eyes. 

1' Maud sat very still after his departure. She had known 
ij in her heart that it was hopeless to appeal to him, but now 
|. that the appeal had failed she was utterly nonplussed. 

! There was no doubt in her mind that matters were desperate. 

Her mother had made her realize that, and she felt she 
: could not write and tell her that she could do nothing. 

: Slight as was the bond of sympathy between them, still 
' were they mother and daughter, and she could not fling 
! her off as Uncle Edward recommended. In a fashion the 
' old man’s anger reacted in/her mother’s favour; for she 
was conscious of indignation on her behalf. Whatever 
Mrs. Sheppard’s faults might be — and it was quite possible 
. that insincerity was among them — he had no right to abuse 
: her. to her daughter. It aroused her own anger, and it 
I aroused also that protective instinct which was never very 
I far below the surface with her. When she rose at length, 
i her face was very pale and determined. She had not 
wanted to write to Charlie, but it seemed that she had 
no choice. 

It was a still, warm afternoon in October. She went into 
the drawing-room, a stiff apartment upholstered in gold 
brocade, and sat down at a writing-table in a window-recess 
to write. 

It was the most difficult letter she had ever composed, 
and yet she had never experienced the smallest difficulty in 
writing to him before. She could not express herself freely. 
Words would not come. She desired to avoid all reference 
to what had passed between them on that night of witchery 


4o8 


The Hundredth Chance 


on which they had last met . She wanted to blot it out of her 
mind and heart, to address him, to regard him, as only a 
friend. Ever since that Sunday evening, now nearly a week 
ago, she had kept her thoughts rigidly from straying in his 
direction. Had it been possible she would have put him 
altogether out of her life. It was not possible, and she 
knew it. But it was with the greatest reluctance that she 
set herself to write to him, and her reluctance displayed 
itself in every sentence. 

She sat over that letter for the greater part of the after- 
noon, and when it was finished at last she felt utterly dis- 
satisfied with it. She had an urgent desire to tear it up. 
But she could not face the writing of another. With a 
weary sigh she closed and stamped the envelope. 

It was then that there fell a step outside the drawing- 
room door, and Uncle Edward’s discreet, elderly maidservant 
peeped in. 

Maud turned in her chair. “What is it, Martha?” 

Martha was about to explain, but broke off with a gasp 
and drew back. There was a muttered word in the door- 
way, and the next moment Martha had disappeared, and a 
man’s figure stood in the opening. 

“Hullo!” said Charlie, with a smile of gay effrontery. 
“May I come in?” 

Maud sat for a second or two as one in a trance and 
stared at him. It was as if the afternoon’s labour had 
suddenly taken concrete form. 

He did not wait for her greeting, but came lightly for- 
ward with hands outstretched. “Ah, queen of the roses,” 
he said, “what a peculiarly unbecoming setting you have 
chosen for yourself! Why — why — what is that? A letter 
to me? How many times a day do you write them?” 

With a lithe, elastic movement, he drew her to her feet, 
held her a moment, looking at her, then bent his smiling, 
swarthy face to hers. 


409 


The Open Door 

''Greeting, queen of the roses!” he said. 

She awoke then, came out of her trance, drew swiftly 
back from him. “Oh, Charlie, is it — is it really you?” 
she said rather incoherently. “You — how you startled 
me!” 

He let her go, as always, at her desire, but with a faint, 
monkeyish grimace of disapproval. “You were always 
easily shocked,” he said. “But on this occasion I assture 
you there is no need. I found myself in the neighbourhood, 
and thought it would be the correct thing to pay you a 
morning call.” 

His queer eyes mocked her openly as he made the explana- 
tion. She felt discomfited, painfully embarrassed, and 
withal conscious of an almost desperate longing to tell 
him to go. 

But she knew she could not do that. Too much hung in 
the balance. 

“Sit down!” she said, mustering her dignity with an 
immense effort. “And I will tell you why I have been 
writing to you.” 

“Wouldn't it save trouble to show me the letter?” ha 
suggested, with easy audacity. “Or have you decided — 
now that you have had a further opportunity of considering 
my personal charms — that you really can’t?” 

She flushed at the implied suggestion. “You can read 
the letter if you like, ” she said somewhat stiffly. “ It is on 
business.” 

She held it out to him, and he sank upon one knee to 
receive it. 

Merely tncL helle reinel Do you wish me to read it in 
your august presence?” 

“Please!” she said. 

He sat facing her, and read it. 

She watched his mobile brows as his eyes travelled over 
the page. She saw amusement twm to humour and 


410 


The Hundredth Chance 


humour to merriment on his face. When he looked up at 
her at length he was laughing. 

“You write as a serf appealing to a feudal lord,” he 
said. “Did you mean to write like that?” 

She shook her head at him gravely. “ It is not a laughing 
matter,” she said. 

“What I am laughing at is,” he rejoined, still smiling 
with a hint of derision. “By the way, have you heard 
from our worthy cow-puncher lately?” 

She flinched sharply, before she was aware. Her whole 
body tingled with a sudden, burning blush. 

And Saltash laughed again wickedly. “I saw him 
yesterday. He was in a fiendish temper for some reason 
or other. Naturally I asked after you, when he was expect- 
ing you back. What do you think he said?” 

“What?” Maud breathed the word through lips that 
panted. Her heart was beating violently she knew not 
why. 

Saltash’s dark face seemed to exult over her agitation. 
“ He said, — you know his soft, drawly way — ‘ I guess I shall 
go — shortly — and fetch her back, my lord.* I wondered if 
you were aware of his amiable intention. There was the 
most deadly air of determination about him. I thought 
you might like to know.** 

Maud’s face was no longer burning; she was white to the 
lips. But she turned from the subject with composure. 
“How did you know where to find me?** 

He laughed teasingly. “You are curiously curious, 
Maud of the roses. Don*t you yet realize that I always 
know everything? For instance, I know exactly why you 
are treating me to this wet-blanket reception. But you 
would be angry if I told you; so I won’t. I also know — ” 
he paused suddenly. “Shall I say it? No, perhaps I had 
better not.” 

She smiled faintly. “Perhaps it is beside the point. 


The Open Door 41 1 

Charlie. Do you mind coming back to the subject of that 
letter? It is that that is troubling me now more than any- 
thing else.’* 

“Really?” he said. “But why should you be troubled? 
It wouldn’t trouble me to see my arch-enemy in dire 
straits.” 

“It is my mother I am anxious about,” she said. “If 
Giles Sheppard goes under, she will go too.” 

Saltash raised his brows in amused interrogation. “Oh, 
does that follow? I should abandon the sinking ship if I 
were Mrs. Sheppard. She has nothing to gain by sticking 
to it.” 

Maud received the remark in silence. He leaned for- 
ward, his dark face still smiling. 

“Do you know I love you for that?” he said. '^Chere 
reine des fleurs, lady of the golden silences! Do you ever 
say what you really think?” 

* She shook her head. “Charlie, I am learning — very 
slowly — a hard lesson. Don’t — please — make it any harder 
forme!” 

“What?” he said. “You are really going back to 
him?” 

She put up a hand to her face, almost as if she would 
hide it from him. “I don’t know — yet — what I shall do. 
But I do know that it would be wrong not to go back.” 

“ilfaw vraimentV^ he protested. “Is life so simple as 
s that? How do you arrive at that conclusion? Do you 
follow always the easy path of virtue?” 

She looked at him quickly. “It is not easy!” she said. 

He lifted his shoulders. “No? But it is — safe at least. 
And you do not possess the adventurous soul. You like 
to be — safe, ma helle, even at the sacrifice of your very heart. 
Do you remember that night of moonshine? But of course 
you do. Do you know that I prowled in the garden half 
the night for your sake-r-jnst in case you should deem it 


412 


The Hundredth Chance 


worth while to be true to that poor heart of yours? You 
went through a good deal that night, my Maud.” His 
voice changed subtly; the half-scoffing note went out of 
it, a faint warmth of pity took its place. “And yet you 
endured it all in silence. Why didn’t you break free and 
come to me? You knew — and so did he — that I was 
waiting, — or you might have known.” 

Maud’s head was bent; she did not attempt to answer 
him. 

He got up abruptly and came to her. “Good-bye, 
Maud of the roses!” 

She started slightly. “You are going?” 

“Yes, I am going. I have received my discharge. My 
faithful service is at end — unless — or may I say until? — 
that message comes to call me back.” He bent towards 
her. “Even I cannot wait for ever.” he said. “Do you 
know I stood by the orchard-gate in the rain for two hours 
on the day of the races? You had a visitor, and so I would 
not intrude upon you. But you, chere reine , — you knew 
I was going to be there. And yet you never came.” 

She raised her head sharply, moved by something in his 
tone. “But how could I? How could I?” she said. 
“ Besides, — Jake knew.” 

He laughed. “Yes, Jake knew. He saw me that night 
of moonshine. He nearly challenged me. And then he 
changed his mind and passed on. I conclude it didn’t 
suit him to quarrel with me. But what of that? He was 
bound to know some day.” 

She clasped her hands tightly together. “If he knew 
all — he would shoot you,” she said, with a sudden hard 
shudder. 

But Saltash only laughed again, and touched a wisp of her 
hair. “Oh, I don’t think so, queen of the roses. I think 
he would have pity on my innocence — if he knew all. But 
that isn’t the point, you know. The point is that you 


413 


The Open Door 

choose bondage with him rather than freedom with me. 
And that being so, I can only bow to your ruling. Once 
more — good-bye ! ’ ’ 

She parted her hands with an effort, and gave him one of 
them. “What about — my mother, Charlie?” she said. 

He pressed her fingers lightly. “I commend her to the 
kind care of her worthy son-in-law.” 

She raised her eyes to his almost incredulously. “You 
are going to — to let them be ruined?” 

He smiled at her, flashing his strange eyes. “ It wouldn’t 
do for you to be under an obligation — a personal obligation 
— to me, would it? Jake — you know — ^Jake might object.” 

She rose quickly and stood facing him. “Charlie, please 
don’t jest!” she urged him, her voice low and very earnest. 

His smile became a grimace. “It rests with you,” he 
said, “ whether I jest my way to the devil or whether I live a 
I godly, righteous and sober life for evermore. If it is to be 
i the latter, then I am quite prepared to fulfil my virtuous de- 
voirs to my prospective mother-in-law. But if the former 
is to be my portion — well, I don’t think even St. Peter 
himself would have saddled himself with anyone else’s. That 
I is the position, chhe reine. Tu comprends maintenant?'* 

I Yes, she understood. There was nothing complex in 
the situation. She stood looking at him her hand still in 
his. 

“Then I cannot look upon you as — a friend?” she said 
at last, almost under her breath. 

He smiled upon her — a sudden, baffling smile. “But 
ask yourself that question, Maud of the roses!” he said. 
“You will find the answer there in your own heart, if you 
seek for it.” 

She quivered at the words, feeling the subtle attraction 
of the man even against her will. 

“You have refused to help me,” she said. 

He bent towards her, his dark face glowing. “I offer 


414 


The Hundredth Chance 


you — all I have,” he said. ‘‘It is your own, to do with as 
you will. But you must take all or leave all. Maud, 
Maud,” his speech quickened to sudden vehemence, “you 
love me! Vv/'hy do you cling to your prison when the door 
is standing wide? Now is your time to escape, if ever. I 
will take all your cares — all your burdens. You shall be 
free as air. Only — now that the door is open — come!” 

“Yes. I should shut the door another time if I were 
you,” a gruff voice commented behind them. “It’s a 
rash thing, young man, to leave the door open when you’re 
talking confidences. What are you doing in this house, I 
wonder? Did you come in at the door? ” 

Both Maud and Saltash had fated round at the first 
sentence, she with a sharp exclamation, he with a laugh. 

Uncle Edward, his eyes very bright under the beetling 
brows, stumped up to them with the air of an old watch- 
dog investigating the presence of a suspicious stranger. 
He rasped his throat ferociously as he came. 

“Who may you be?” he demanded. 

“I?” Saltash was laughing still, facing the situation 
with his hands in his pockets, the soul of careless effrontery."" 
“I don’t suppose you have ever heard my name before. I 
am Saltash.” 

“Who? ” Uncle Edward turned for explanation towards 
his niece. 

“Lord Saltash,” she said, in a low voice. 

“Oh! Lord Saltash!” The old man turned back to 
him with a sound like a snarl. “Yes, I have heard of you 
before. You were co-respondent in the Cressady divorce 
case a few years back.” 

Saltash laughed again with easy nonchalance. “You 
have a good memory, sir. If it serves you as it should, 
you will also recall the fact that the case was dismissed.” 

“I remember — all the facts,” said Uncle Edward, with 
ominous deliberation. “And as it is not my custom to 


The Open Door 415 

admit ihen of your stamp into my house, you will oblige 
.me by quitting it without delay.” 

j Saltash turned to Maud. “I am sorry you have been 
icaught in such bad company,” he said. “Pray explain 
that I came uninvited! I shall be at Burch ester for the 
I present. When you come back, you and your husband 
tmust come and dine. Good-bye!” 

I With the unabashed smile still on his ugly face, he 
turned to go, moving with the easy arrogance of the ruling 
race, royally incapable of discomfiture. 

Uncle Edward followed him to the door, and grimly 
watched his exit. Then still more grimly he came tramping 
: back. “And now to pick a bone with you, my niece!” he 
said. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE DOWNWARD PATH 

S HE stood erect, facing him. Her face was very pale, 
but her eyes were quite unflinching. There was 
about her a majesty of demeanour that might have deterred 
a less determined man than Uncle Edward. But he stood 
upon his own ground and grappled with the situation quite 
undismayed. He was moreover very angry. 

You young hussy ! ” he said, bringing out his words with 
immense emphasis. “How dare you have your lover here? 
Thought you were safe, eh? Thought I shouldn’t know? 
Oh, you’re like the rest of ’em, crafty as an eel. What’s the 
meaning of it, eh? What have you got to say for yourself? ” 
She did not attempt to answer him. Where her mother 
would have been loud in self-justification, she uttered 
not a word. Only, after a moment or two, she turned 
slowly and sat down at the writing-table, leaning her chin 
on her hand as one spent. Even so, there was an aloofness 
in her attitude that conveyed to the wrathful old man 
beside her an unpleasant sense of being at a disadvantage. 

He stood looking down at her, grievously resentful, 
striving to select a weapon sharp enough to pierce her 
calm. 

“ I thought you were to be trusted, ” he said. “Goodness 
knows why! You didn’t seem to have any leaven of your 
mother about you. But I see now I was wrong. You are 
just your mother over again. But if you think you are 

416 


The Downward Path 


417 


going to pursue an intrigue with that aristocratic black- 
guard in my house, you’re very much mistaken. No 
doubt I’m very old-fashioned and strait-laced. But there 
it is. I object. I object strongly. The man’s a liar and a 
thief and a scoundrel. Don’t you know it, eh? Haven’t 
you found him out yet?” 

He stopped so pointedly for an answer that she could not 
maintain her silence longer. She moved a little, turned her 
head slightly, without raising her eyes, and spoke. 

“I know him very well. But — forgive me. Uncle Ed- 
ward! — I can’t discuss him with you. I — I am sorry 
you thought it necessary to insult him.” 

“Insult him!” Uncle Edward’s anger boiled afresh. 
“Didn’t I catch the hound making love to you? Here in 
my house where I have lived decently and respectably for 
over fifty years! Didn’t I catch him, I say — he a well- 
known profligate and you a married woman? Didn’t I 
actually hear him trying to tempt you from your husband 
and your duty? And you were calmly permitting it. Look 
here, young woman! I’ve been too' kind to you. That’s 
the fact of the matter. You’ve had too much liberty, too 
much indulgence, too much of your own way. You married 
in a hurry against my judgment. But — by heaven — 
since you are married, you shall stick to your bargain! 
You take a pen now — do you hear? — and a sheet of paper, 
and write to your husband this minute, and ask him to 
come and join you here! I won’t be surety for you any 
longer. Tell him to come to-morrow!” 

But Maud only stiffened as she sat making no movement 
to comply. She looked like a marble statue of Despair. 

Uncle Edward came a little nearer to her. He was not 
accustomed to being set at nought. Most people regarded 
him as formidable even when he was in a comparatively 
genial mood. 

“Are you going to do as I tell you?” he said. 


27 


4i8 


The Hundredth Chance 


She glanced up at him momentarily. ‘‘I think/’ she 
said, “we will wait till to-morrow.” 

He stamped a furious foot. “Will we, indeed, madam! 
Well, you may wait as long as you please; but I tell you 
this: If you don’t write that letter — instantly, I shall go 
straight to the post-office round the comer and send your 
husband a telegram to summon him at once. He will 
be here by the morning, if I know him. And then I shall 
tell him exactly why I sent for him. So now you can take 
your choice. Which is it to be?” 

He had moved her at last. Maud rose to her feet with a 
suddenness that was almost suggestive of panic. “You 
would never do such a thing!” she said. “You could 
not be so — so wickedly cruel!” 

He snapped his jaws like an angry terrier. “Oh, that 
would be wicked, would it? You have some odd ideas of 
'morals; that’s all I can say. ^ut wicked or cmel, it’s 
what I mean to do. So take your choice, and be quick 
about it! For I shan’t go back on what I’ve said. When a 
woman starts on the downward path, she usually takes it 
at a mn; and I won’t be responsible. So which is it to be? 
Y our letter or my telegram ? Make up your mind ! Which ?” 

' His manner was almost menacing. She stood facing him 
with an awful sense of impotence growing at her heart. 
To summon Jake herself was a proceeding that she could 
not for a moment contemplate, but the bare thought of 
Uncle Edward’s alternative pierced like a poisoned knife. 
She felt again that dreadful trapped feeling of former 
days. The liberty she had enjoyed of late made it all 
the more terrible. 

“I can’t decide anything just now,” she said at last, and 
she knew that her voice trembled painfully. “Please — 
please let us wait a little! There is really no need to send 
for Jake. Lord Saltash has gone, and he will not come 
back.” 


The Downward Path 


419 


“ Don’t tell me ! ” said Uncle Edward truculently. Even 
if he doesn’t, how am I to be sure that you won’t take it into 
your head to go to him? No, my niece, I’ve heard too 
' much. Why, he’d have had his arm round you in another 
second. I know — I saw. If I’d waited another three 
seconds, he’d have been kissing you. And not for the first 
time. I’ll be bound.” 

The hot colour rushed to Maud’s face ; she turned sharply 
aside. 

“Ha! That touches you, does it?” snarled Uncle 
Edward, with ferocious triumph. “I guessed as much, 
t Now which is it to be? Are you going to write that 
letter?” 

It was hopeless to carry the discussion further. A 
burning wave of anger went through her, anger that buoyed 
her up above despair, stimulating her to a fierce rebellion. 
She drew herself to her full height and faced him with 
supreme defiance. 

“I will not write that letter!” she said. “I will not be 
forced into a false position. If you are tired of me, I will 
( go. I will not stay — in any case — to be insulted!” 

And with that boldly, with the carriage of an outraged 
: princess, she swept by him and out of the room, leaving 
1 him staring after her in a fury too great to express itself 
before the closing of the door. 

I Up to her room she went, outwardly calm, inwardly 
^ raging. All the old hot rebellion against destiny had 
awaked within her. It had died down of late, soothed into 
quiescence by the peaceful solitude in which she had been 
I living. But now it had sprung afresh to quivering life. 
\ Her freedom from bondage had given her new strength. 
I She would not be bound again hand and foot, and thrust 
; back into the old bitter slavery. It was too much, too 
I' much. She had her life to live. It was hers, not Jake’s, 
f She had a right to do with it as she would. 


420 


The Hundredth Chance 


With hands that trembled she began to pack. Uncle 
Edward had made it impossible for her to stay. If he had 
not set her feet upon the downward path, he had sped her 
upon it with an impetus that drove her irresistibly. She 
worked in a fever, not pausing for thought, conscious 
but of the one urgent desire to be gone, to escape — she had 
scarcely begun to think whither. 

No one came near her during those evening hours. 
The daylight waned, and she realized that it was nearing 
the dinner hour. Then suddenly it came to her that she 
could not face her uncle again. She must make some 
excuse. 

Her work was done ; she rang the bell. 

After a pause Martha came to her. There was a scared 
look on the woman’s face. She seemed half -afraid to meet 
Maud’s eyes. 

“Did you ring, ma’am?” she enquired. 

“Yes.” With an effort Maud made reply. “Is — is my 
uncle in?” 

“He’s just come in and gone upstairs to dress for dinner, 
ma’am, ” Martha told her. 

“Ah!” Maud’s heart contracted a little. “He has 
been out some time?” she said. 

“Yes, ma’am, a long time. He seems a bit out of temper 
about something,” Martha’s round eyes suddenly con- 
veyed sympathy that shone out to Maud like a beacon in 
the darkness. “I shouldn’t take much notice of him, 
ma’am,” she said. “He often says what he don’t mean 
when he’s in one of his tantrums. He’ll be better in the 
morning.” 

Again that awful sense of impotence assailed Maud. 
She leaned her head against the door-post, closing her eyes 
for a second. What would the morning bring forth? 
The thought turned her sick. 

“Is there anything as I can do, ma’am?” asked Martha. 


The Downward Path 


421 


I '‘Yes.” Abruptly Maud pulled herself together. A 
I sudden resolution had sprung up within her. She could 
r not face another storm such as that through which 
I she had just come. Above all she could not face the 
; morrow and its possibilities in this house. She turned 
back into the room, and took half a sovereign from the 
table. “Martha,” she said, “I have packed ever5i:hing 
up, and I am going away. I want you, please, to call 
a cab now, at once, to take me away before my uncle 
[ comes downstairs. I will write him a note while you 
I are gone. Please, please, Martha, be as quick as you 
: can!” 

The sympathy in Martha’s eyes became a sort of tragic 
I friendliness. “I knew as you wouldn’t stay, ma’am,” she 
said, “not after the way he hollered at you. I wouldn’t 
myself in your place, ma’am; no, that I wouldn’t. But 
you see, I’ve been with him so long. I don’t mind his 
rough ways. I’ll go at once, and thank you kindly, ma’am. 
It won’t take me five minutes. But, mind you, I think 
he’ll be sorry to lose you.” 

“I can’t help that,” Maud made answer. “It is quite 
impossible for me to stay. He will know why. But I 
will write him a note all the same.” 

And when Martha had gone, she sat down and scribbled 
two notes. 

The first she addressed to her uncle: 

“ Dear Uncle Edward, 

“I do not think you will be greatly surprised at my 
leaving you. After what has passed, I could not stay. I 
am very sorry for what has happened, but I suppose it 
had to be. I wish I could thank you for all your kindness 
to me, but I know this is not the time. So I will only say 
good-bye. * * Y ours , 

“ Maud.” 


422 


The Hundredth Chance 


The second note consisted of one sentence only, am 
going to my mother. Maud.” And when she had written 
it she picked up a tiny packet of tissue-paper that lay beside 
her and dropped it into the envelope with the note. She 
addressed the envelope to Lord Salt ash, Burchester Castle, 
and later she sealed and registered it, stopping at a post- 
office to send it on its way. She believed it would reach its 
destination almost as soon as he did. And that packet — • 
that tipy object wrapped in tissue-paper — would convey 
its own message. No further words were needed. 

She herself went for the night to a small hotel in a back- 
street that was not far from her uncle’s house. There would 
be a train in the early morning. She would not travel by 
night. Something held her back, some instinct she did not 
attempt to fathom. But she believed that Charlie would 
travel by the night- train, and she did not want to see him 
again until he had received that packet. Afterwards — well, 
the afterwards would rest with him. 

Her sleep was fitful and troubled that night, broken 
repeatedly by the persistent chime of a church-clock. To- 
wards morning she slept and dreamed again that strangely 
haunting dream of the flower-decked altar and the red, 
shining lamp above. For a space she held herself aloof 
from the dream, refusing to yield to it. But at length it 
seemed to her that someone came and took her hand, 
drawing her forward, and she had no choice. 

Straight into the wondrous glow she went, and presently 
she knelt before those flowers of dazzling purity. The 
quiet hand still held hers in a calm and comforting grasp. 
She felt that she would have been frightened but for that 
sustaining hold. 

And then suddenly she saw that the candles also were 
burning upon the altar, knew that she was kneeling there 
with Jake, heard a voice above their heads very low and 
clear that seemed to be speaking to their hearts: — “Those 


The Downward Path 


423 

whom God hath joined together, let no man put 
asunder.** . . . 

And turning she found Jake’s eyes upon her, alight with 
adoration. . . . 

She awoke with a gasping cry to a seething, passionate 
regret. Because in those first wild moments she knew 
with an awful certainty that her feet were set upon the 
downward path, and she could never turn back again. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE REVELATION 

T he autumn dusk was falling as the Fairharbour train 
crawled at length into the station. A sea-fog hung 
clammily along the shore, and a smell of burning weeds was 
in the air. 

Maud shivered with cold and weariness as she descended 
to the platform. It had been a long, long journey. Her 
whole body ached with fatigue. 

There were not many travellers, and they had all dis- 
appeared before she had collected her luggage and made her 
way out into the the dank chill of the station-yard where a 
rickety cab stood waiting. 

She shivered afresh as she got into it. The dampness 
and the cold seemed to penetrate to her very bones. She 
sat huddled in a corner. 

“Where to, miss?’* The porter thrust a cheery face in 
upon her, and, albeit she was veiled, she shrank back with 
nn instinctive desire to avoid recognition. 

“The Anchor Hotel,” she said, through teeth that chat- 
tered in spite of her. 

She heard him give the order, and in a moment the ram- 
shackle conveyance was on its way. They clattered forth 
over the stones into the clinging billows of mist. 

The cold caught and pierced her anew as they neared the 
dreary front. She heard the muffled roar of the sea splash- 
ing dully against the wall. The mist became a wet drizzle 

424 


The Revelation 


425 


■ beating in through the window. She tried to close it, but 
the strap was broken. She could only draw her wrap more 
closely about her. 

The cab horse stumbled, and was dragged up by his driver 
! with a curse. They were nearing the Anchor Hotel. She 
|: wished she had prepared her mother for her advent. She 
I had not dared to do so in case — just in case — it should come 
to Jake’s knowledge, though she believed that Jake must 
' be well on his way to Liverpool by now, if he had not already 
: arrived there. It was possible that he had not been able 
to leave at a moment’s notice, and she had not dared to 
take the chance of any rumour of her coming reaching him. 
But now that she was so nearly at the end of her journey, 
she wished earnestly that her mother were expecting her. 
The thought of meeting Giles Sheppard, asking his hos- 
I pitality, was hateful to her. 

It would not be for more than that one night. Of that 
she was convinced. Charlie would be swift to answer her 
summons, if indeed he had returned to the Castle. But 
he was so erratic in all his ways that she had some doubt on 
this point. If he had not returned — ! But she could not 

■ think of that possibility. She turned from it with a sick fore- 
boding. Surely Fate could not play her so hideous a trick ! 

They lumbered on. 

Suddenly the light from the swinging lamp that hung in 
the porch of ‘‘ The Anchor ” burst across their path. The 
horse stumbled again, recovered itself, jolted on a few yards, 
stopped. They had arrived. 

Maud gathered her energies for one supreme effort though 
she felt almost too stiff with cold to move. The cabman 
shambled down and opened the door. 

“No one about seemin’ly, ” he remarked. 

She controlled her quivering nerves. “Perhaps you will 
get down my trunk,” she said. “You can leave it in the 
porch.” 


426 


The Hundredth Chance 


The man grtimbled to himself, but proceeded to comply, 
she standing on the step to watch him. 

The mist was beating in from the sea. Her face was 
wet with it. And yet her dread of entering that house 
was such that she could hardly bring herself to open the 
swing door, debating with herself if even then she might 
not run up the hill to the house in which they had lodged 
a year before — only a year before — and obtain shelter for 
the night there. 

The darkness and the rain deterred her. Her courage 
seemed to have quite left her. In the end she turned with 
a species of dreary desperation and pushed back the heavy 
door. 

The entrance-hall was empty, vaguely lit by one flar- 
ing gas-jet round which the fog- wreaths curled and 
drifted in the draught, cold as a vault, and smelling of 
stale tobacco-smoke. The place looked bare and poverty- 
stricken, almost squalid. The rugs were gone from the 
floor, the pictures from the walls. 

The door swung closed behind her, and she felt as if 
she stood inside a prison. The office-window was shut, 
and no sound came from any quarter. Only through 
the desolate silence there came the sullen thump of the 
sea against the wall, like the waning struggle of a giant 
grown impotent with long and fruitless striving. 

The utter solitude of the place began to possess her like 
an evil dream. She stood as one under a spell, afraid to 
move. And then, quite suddenly, she heard a step. 

The impulse came to her then to flee, but she did not 
obey it. She stood stiffly waiting. Even if it were Giles 
Sheppard himself, she would meet him before she went 
out into the dripping dark outside. 

It was not Giles Sheppard. A man in a tweed suit 
and black gaiters, square-shouldered, rather^ short than 
tall, — a man of bull-dog strength — came suddenly upon her 


The Revelation 



from the interior of the house. She heard the jingle of 
spurs upon the stones of the hall, caught one glance of a 
sunburnt, dominant face and hair that shone like burnished 
copper in the light ; and then she was tottering blindly back- 
wards, groping, groping for the door by which she might 
escape. 

He came to her ere she could open it, and in a moment 
she became rigid, as one fascinated into passivity. He 
took her ice-cold hands and held them. 

“Why, Maud! Maud!’" he said, in the tone of one who 
would comfort a child. 

A great shiver went through her at his touch; but she 
stood speechless. His face swam before her shrinking 
vision. She felt sick and faint. 

“Snakes!’’ he said. “You’re perished with cold. Say, 
why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Then, as 
still she could not speak: “Come along into the office! 
There’s no one there; and I’ll soon have a fire for you. 
You lean on me, my girl! It’ll be all right. ” 

His arm went round her; he supported her strongly. 
The warmth of his body sent a faint glow through her. 
Almost without knovung it, she leaned upon him. 

He took her into the deserted office, put her into a 
chair by the empty fireplace, lighted the gas, then knelt 
to kindle the fire. The wood was damp; he coaxed it 
to burn, blowing at the unwilling flame, his head in the 
smoke. 

“Say, that’s better,” he said softly at length. “Now 
I’m going to give you something you’ll hate, but I reckon 
you’ll take it to please me. Won’t you?” 

He still knelt beside her, but there was no hint of author- 
ity, no possessiveness, in his bearing. Rather there was 
about him a ctirious something that was almost like humility. 

She watched him dumbly as he pulled a small glass 
flask out of his pocket and withdrew the cork. He turned 


428 


The Hundredth Chance 


to her as he did it, and for an instant she met his eyes. 
The old hot glow was wholly gone from them. She missed 
it^with an odd sense of shock. Only kindness shone out 
at her; only friendliness was in the clasp of the hand he 
laid on hers. 

“You’ll take it?” he said, in his voice of soft persuasion. 
“It’s raw spirit; but it’s not going to do you any harm. 
Just a drop, and then I’ll feel easier about you! There 
now, if that’s not real good of you!” 

He was pressing it gently upon her; and she could not 
refuse. She took the flask from him and drank a burning 
drain. 

“Has it gone?” said Jake. 

She nodded silently, feeling the glow of the spirit 
spreading through her veins and the deadly coldness at 
her heart giving place to it. 

He smiled upon her, his pleasant, sudden smile, and took 
the flask back into his own keeping. Then he bent again 
to the fire, blowing at it persistently, patiently, till it 
shot up into a blaze. 

She watched him as one in a dream — a dream from 
which all nightmare horror had been magically banished. 
This — this was the old Jake to whom she had once turned 
in trouble, in whose arms she had sobbed out her misery 
and despair. This was Jake the friend into whose keep- 
ing she had given her life. 

He straightened himself again, coughing a little. She 
caught again the gleam of the red-brown eyes, seeking 
hers. 

“Better now?” he asked her. 

She bent her head. “Yes, I am all right now. You — 
you — I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Guess it was a mutual surprise,” said Jake. “What 
brought you anyway?” 

Her heart gave a sudden quick throb of dismay. 


The Revelation 


429 


Actually she had forgotten the desperate resolution that 
had urged her for so long. She turned her face quickly 
from him. “I — came — to — to see my mother,” she 
I faltered. 

I He raised his brows momentarily. “ She wasn’t expecting 
! you, sure, ” he commented. 

1 “No,” she felt her cheeks burning, and strove still 

i further to avoid his look. “No. It — it was a — surprise 
! visit.” 

There fell a brief silence upon her words, and while 
it lasted, she sat in tense suspense, waiting — waiting 
for him to pounce upon her secret and drag it to the light. 
She dared not look at him kneeling there beside her, 
dared 'not meet the awful scrutiny of those lynx-eyes. 
Such was her agitation that she scarcely dared even to 
breathe. 

And then an amazing thing happened. Jake’s hand 
was suddenly laid upon her knee, pressing it reassuringly. 
“Well,” he said in his casual drawl, “I reckon you’ve 
come in the nick of time so far as your mother is concerned. 
Your amiable step-father has cleared out bag and baggage, 
and left her to face the music. He pawned everything he 
could lay his dirty hands on first, and the place is empty 
except for the old ostler who is serving behind the bar till 
further orders.” 

“Oh Jake!” Startled, Maud turned back to him. “And 
what is my mother doing?” 

' There was a faintly humorous twist about Jake’s lips 
as he made reply. “Your mother has gone to bed in 
hysterics. I can’t get out of her what exactly she means 
to do. P’raps you will be more successful. I came 
down this morning as soon as I got the news of Sheppard’s 
departure, and tried to persuade her to come along to 
the Stables; but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’s got some 
idea at the back of her mind, I gather; or maybe the 


430 


The Hundredth Chance 


Stables aren’t aristocratic enough. Anyway, there was 
no moving her. I’ve been up at Tattersall’s all day. 
Only got back half an hour ago. I thought I’d look in 
again here, and see how things were going before I went 
home. But they haven’t moved any since this morning, 
and she is still in bed with hysterics. ” 

He had not been home all day; he had received no mes- 
sage. The thought darted through Maud with a sudden- 
ness that nearly made her gasp with relief. He did not 
know of Uncle Edward’s summons. And then she re- 
membered that it must be awaiting him, and her heart 
sank again. 

“You’re shivering still,” said Jake gently. 

“It’s nothing,” she made answer. “It’s nothing.’* 
And then desperately: “You — you didn’t get — a telegram 
from Uncle Edward — ^last night?” 

“I?” said Jake. “No. What should he wire to me 
for?’ 

She hesitated a second, then feverishly faced the danger 
that menaced her. “You — I expect you will find a mes- 
sage waiting for you. We — ^we had a disagreement yester- 
day. That’s why I came away. ” 

Jake’s brows met abruptly. “Hasn’t he been treating 
you properly?” 

“Oh, it’s not that. I — I can’t tell you what it was. 
But — he said he should wire to you — to go to Liverpool. ” 

Maud’s hands clasped each other very tightly. She 
was striving with all her strength for composure. But 
she could not bring herself to look him in the face. 

“And so you came away,” Jake said slowly. 

She nodded, swallowing down her agitation. “I didn’t 
want to meet you — like that. I didn’t know what was in 
the telegram.” 

Jake’s fingers patted her knee gently. “And so you 
came back here for refuge ! All right, my girl ! You needn’t 


[ The Revelation 431 

be afraid. Uncle Edward may go to blazes. I shan’t read 
that telegram. 

He stooped with the words, picked up a fragment of 
burning stick that had fallen at her feet, and tossed it back 
' into the flames. * 

Maud uttered a sharp exclamation. “Jake! You’ll be 
burnt!” 

He looked up at her with a smile. “ I guess not,” he said. 
“And now that that matter is disposed of, you’ll maybe like 
to go and see your mother. ” 

She met his eyes with a feeling that she could do no less. 
“You’re very good,” she said, with an effort. 

His smile broadened. “Then it’s the cheapest form of 
goodness I know,” he said. “If your Uncle Edward were 
a little younger, I’d give myself the pleasure of accepting 
his invitation just for the sake of administering the kick- 
ing he deserves. However, we won’t waste time discuss- 
ing him. Are you going to spend the night here along with 
your mother?” 

He seemed bent upon making things easy for her. His 
attitude amazed her. She kept asking herself again and 
again if this could be the man from whom she had fled in bit- 
terness of spirit all those weeks ago. 

She hesitated to answer his question. She was pain- 
fully uncertain of the ground beneath her feet. Almost 
she expected it to cleave asunder at any moment and reveal 
the raging fires that once had scorched her soul. 

But Jake did not suffer her to remain in suspense. Very 
quietly he filled in her hesitation. “Maybe you’d sooner 
stay here, ” he said, in his soft, rather sing-song voice. “ It’s 
up to you to decide. Guess I shan’t interfere any with 
your movements.” 

His one hand still lay on her knee. It pressed upon her 
a little as though seeking to convey something that she 
was slow to grasp. 


432 


The Hundredth Chance 


Her doubt subsided under the steady touch. She sud- 
denly knew beyond all questioning that she stood on solid 
ground. Yet it was not without difficulty that she answered 
him. “I think — perhaps — for to-night — I will stay with 

her. ’’ 

Jake nodded with his face to the flames. ^*It*s up to 
you,” he said again. 

She looked at his bent head, conscious of a new distress. 
How was she going to repay him for this his goodness to 
her? He was trusting her blindly. He had refused to let 
his eyes be opened. For she knew he would keep his word 
about that telegram. Jake always kept his word. 

Her distress grew, became almost imbearable. She saw 
herself in a new and horrible light, and shrank in anguish 
of soul from the revelation. It was as if upon that downward 
path she had suddenly caught a glimpse of the precipice 
at the end, the cruel rocks, the dreadful fall, the black, seeth- 
ing whirlpool below. And her whole being revolted. All 
that was pure in her made swift outcry. 

If Jake — Jake — had climbed back to the old high ground, 
surely she could do the same! Surely she could do no 
less. He trusted her — he trusted her! How could she go 
on? 

The wild tempest of feeling rushed through her, and 
passed. She was left very cold, striving desperately to 
suppress a fit of shuddering that threatened to overwhelm 
her. 

Jake was not looking at her. He seemed unaware of her 
agitation. After a moment he took his hand away, and 
rose. 

He began to feel in his pockets, produced his clay pipe 
and tobacco-pouch; then suddenly paused. ”Do you mind 
if I light up? I’m just going. ” 

“Oh, please do!” she said. 

He began to fill the pipe with minute care. “ Don’t let 


The Revelation 


i 433 


your mother take too much out of you!** he said. “Have 
a meal and turn in as early as you can! Guess you’re 
needing a good rest. ” 

She leaned her head on her hand. “Yes. I am tired.” 

Jake was silent again for a space. Finally he put the 
pipe into his mouth and shook the tobacco back into his 
pouch. Then in a curiously hesitating voice, he spoke. 
“Say,— Maud!’* 

She gave a start, and raised her head. He was looking 
down at her with a faint smile in his eyes, a smile that struck 
her as being whimsical and yet curiously wistful also. 

“I just want to tell you, my girl,” he said, “that you’re 
not to be scared of me any more. Reckon you’ve had a 
hell of a time all your life, but it’s to come to an end right 
now. For the future, you do the asking and I the giving. 
You’re boss, and don’t you forget it! I’m your man, not 
your master, and I’ll behave accordingly. Guess I’ll even lie 
down and let you kick me if it’ll make you happy any. ” 

Maud was gazing at him in open amazement long before 
he had finished his astounding speech. The slow utter- 
ance, half -sad, half -humorous, was spoken with the full 
weight of the man’s strength of purpose. Every word came 
with the steady force of unwavering resolution. There was 
a touch of the superb about him even with that unlighted 
pipe between his teeth. And every word seemed to pierce 
her with a deeper pain, pain that was well-nigh unendurable. 

As he uttered the last deliberate sentence, she rose 
quickly with a gesture of protest. She could bear no more. 

“Jake, you — you — you hurt me!” she stammered inco- 
herently. 

He put out a hand to her. “No — no!” he said. “That 
was not my intention. ” 

It was almost as though he pleaded with her for some 
species of clemency. She was sure she read entreaty in 
the red-brown eyes. But she could not lay her hand in his. 

28 


434 


The Hundredth Chance 


She could not — she could not ! She stood before him pant- 
ing, speechless, shaken to the very foundations of her being. 

His hand fell. “I just want you to be happy, my girl, 
that’s all,” he said gently; “happy after your own notions 
of happiness. Maybe there ain’t room for me in the gen- 
eral scheme of things. If that’s so, — I reckon I’ll stay 
outside. ” 

He turned aside with the words and struck a match to 
kindle his pipe with the air of a man who has said his say. 
Then while she still watched him, he puffed a great cloud 
of smoke into the air, straightened himself, and made her 
an odd, clumsy bow. 

“I’m going now. So long!” he said. 

And so, without further parley, he left her, striding 
away in his square, purposeful fashion without a backward 
glance. 

Only when he was gone did it flash upon her that this — 
this — was her dream come true. All unknowing, wholly 
without intention, he had opened her eyes. And she knew 
that he loved her — ^he loved her ! 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE LAST CHANCE 

“ I T’S a cruel world, complained ]\Irs. Sheppard. “No- 

1 thing ever goes right, and no one ever thinks of any- 
body but themselves.” She wiped her eyes pathetically. 
‘‘I’m sure I’ve always tried to consider others. And this 
t is the result. In my hour of need I am forsaken by every- 
body.” 

“ It’s no good fretting, ” Maud said very wearily. “We 
must think what is best to be done.” 

She realized that her mother was in her most unreasonable 
mood, and she felt herself powerless to cope with it. Yet the 
situation had to be faced, and with a heavy heart she faced 
it. 

“My dear, I’ve thought and thought till my brain re- 
fuses to work,” said Mrs. Sheppard plaintively. “What 
is the good of it? You know as well as I that if Charlie 
refuses to help, all hope is gone. And you say he has 
refused.” 

“Yes.” Maud was stooping over the kettle that she 
was boiling in her mother’s bedroom. “He has refused.” 

“Unconditionally?” Mrs. Sheppard sent a sudden 
keen glance across at the slim, drooping figure and noted 
the weariness of its pose. “Maud, tell me! Uncon- 
ditionally?” 

Maud remained bent. “I am not going to accept his 
conditions,” she said, after a moment. 

435 


436 


The Hundredth Chance 


‘‘Then he made conditions?” The question came sharp 
and querulous from the bed. 

“One condition.” Maud bent a little lower. 

“What was it? My child, you must tell me. I have 
a right to know.” Mrs. Sheppard raised herself to a sit- 
ting position. “What was this condition?” 

Maud did not turn. “What does it matter what it 
was as I am not going to accept it, ” sh^ said. 

“You have refused?” 

“I am going to refuse.” There was utter weariness in 
her voice. She spoke as one to whom nothing mattered 
any more. 

“Maud! Then you haven’t actually refused him yet?” 
Mrs. Sheppard suddenly flung out her arms. “Maud — ■ 
darling, come and tell me all about it!” she urged. 
“There is something behind that you haven’t told me yet. 
Come here, dearest! Come to me!” 

Maud turned an unwilling face over her shoulder. “I 
am too tired to-night. Mother,” she said. “ Besides, there 
is really nothing to tell. Charlie made me a certain pro- 
posal which — which I thought for a little that I might ac- 
cept. I now realize that I can’t and — and — ” a faint 
quiver of vehemence crept into her voice, — “I want to 
forget that I ever thought I could. Please let me forget!” 

“ My dear child! Do you mean that he made you a pro- 
posal of marriage?” The eagerness of Mrs. Sheppard’s 
query was scarcely veiled. Her eyes had the look of one 
in search of treasure. 

“Yes; just that . ” The emotion had gone out of Maud’s 
voice again. It sounded flat and mechanical. She leaned 
her arm upon the mantelpiece for support. “I ought not 
to have suffered it. I was to blame more than he. He 
has always been — that sort. I — haven’t.” 

“ But, my dear, you have always loved each other. Why 
should either of you be to blame? The fault was oer- 


The Last Chance 


437 

tainly yours in the first place for sending him away long 
ago; but now — now ” 

“Now I am married to another man,’* Maud said. 

Mrs. Sheppard clapped her hands together in a sudden 
access of impatience. “A man for whom you have not 
the smallest respect or affection! A man of intemperate 
habits who took advantage of a weak moment to marry 
you, who has made you utterly miserable, and deserves 
nothing from you but the utmost contempt! My dear 
Maud, I always thought that you were proud and fastidious. 
Didn’t Charlie always call you his queen rose? How can 
you — how can you — regard that farcical marriage of yours 
as binding? How can you contemplate ruining your own 
life and Charlie’s also now that another chance has been 
given you? It is sheer wilful folly. It is madness. Or is 
it that you are just — afraid?” 

Maud shook her head. “I don’t suppose you would 
ever really understand. Mother,” she said. “Anyhow I 
don’t know how to explain. But I can’t do it — now. I 
thought I could. I came back because I thought I could. 
But now I am here — now I have seen Jake — I find I can’t.” 

“That is because you are afraid,” declared Mrs. Sheppard. 
“He has terrorized you. But, oh, my dear, do try to 
break away from that! Do think of yourself — and of 
Charlie who has loved you all these years! One great 
effort — only one — and you will be free from this horrible, 
unnatural bond. I know that Charlie will be true to you. 
You are the one woman so far as he is concerned. And 
he — he is the one man, dear, isn’t he? You can’t — surely 
you can’t — bear to disappoint him now ! Think of the years 
to come! Think of the life-happiness waiting for you if 
you only muster the strength now to grasp it! Maud, my 
darling, my own girlie, can’t you be brave just this once 
when so much hangs upon it? He will take you away in 
his yacht, and you will be all in all to each other. You 


438 


The Hundredth Chance 


will find all the good things you have missed till now; and 
this dreadful year will fade away like a dream. Oh, dar- 
ling, surely you will make this one great effort to gain so 
much! The chance will never come again to you. It 
is the one chance of your life, — the last. How can you bear 
to throw it away?” 

“And what of Jake?” Maud spoke the words as though* 
uttering her thought aloud. She was gazing downwards! 
at the steaming kettle and the red-hot*^ glow of the fire.l| 

“Jake!” Mrs. Sheppard’s reply was instant and con-J 
temptuous. “He will marry a girl in his own station who! 
will satisfy all his desires. You can’t honestly imagine! 
that you have done that, that he regards his marriage with* 
you as a success! He may be annoyed at your prefer- 
ence, but he will be as glad as you are to be rid of his bargain.^ 
It will be the greatest kindness^ou can do him — if you want 
to be kind. You know you hate him from the bottom of 
your heart.” ' 

‘ ‘ Mother ! Y ou’re wrong ! ’ ’ Sharply — as though stung 
to action — Maud turned. “I don’t hate Jake. He — ^ 
he is too good a man — too upright a man — to hate. It 
is true I haven’t been happy with him, but that has not 
been his fault. Our ideas of happiness are not the same, 
that’s all.” ^ 

Mrs. Sheppard stared in momentary discomfiture at 
this sudden display of strength. She had not expected 
serious resistance in this quarter. But she was quick to 
rally her forces. 

“Oh, I don’t blame him entirely,” she said. “As you' 
say, you are utterly unsuited to each other. But it is 
sheer nonsense to call him a good man. I know that he is 
often the worse for drink. I have seen him myself flog-' 
ging his horses down on the beach as no man in his sober . 
senses would dream of doing. He is an utter brute at 
heart. There is no getting away from that fact. He may 


The Last Chance 


439 


not be a wholly bad man. I have not said that he is. But 
he is a man of violent impulses. He knows nothing of the 
refinements of life. ,Fe is a brute.” 

Mrs. Sheppard paused. Maud was standing mute and 
motionless with tragic eyes fixed before her. 

After a moment or two to give her words time to sink 
in, Mrs. Sheppard continued on a note of pathos. 

“You may say to me that I have made exactly the same 
mistake myself. But then, I did it for you children. And 
it was not the whole of my life that I had to offer. But 
you, — you are young. Your good time is yet to come. And 
think, dear, think how much depends upon you! If Charlie 
I dies unmarried, there will be no one to succeed him. He 
i is the last of the Burchesters. And if he doesn’t marry you, 
I I am sure he will never marry any other woman. He 
: loves you so devotedly. Through all his peccadilloes, he 
: has always remembered you, come back to you. Are you 
' going to let him be lonely always because of his love for 
you? He has laid the greatest gift in the world at your feet, 
dear. Oh, grasp it while you can 1 Don’t let the whole of 
his manhood, your womanhood, be one long and fruitless 
regret!” 

It was the climax of her pleading. The tears were run- 
ning down her face as she reached it, and she did not check 
them too readily though she knew that she had made an 
i impression. Victory would not come at once, she fully real- 
ized. The stony immobility of Maud’s attitude told her 
that. But she had laid her plans with craft. She be- 
lieved that by the exercise of extreme patience victory might 
ultimately be achieved. 

“There, darling! You’re very tired,” she said, as she 
slowly dried her eyes; “much too tired to see anything in its 
proper light to-night. Y ou must go to bed and sleep. Y ou 
will see things much more clearly in the morning. And 
shall I tell you a secret?” She smiled, a wistful, 


440 The Hundredth Chance 

loving smile. “Charlie will be at the Castle to-morrow 
afternoon. ” 

“How do you know, Mother?” Maud spoke quickly as 
one suddenly awakened. 

“How do I know? But everyone knows,” Mrs. Shep- 
pard answered vaguely. “The yacht is in the harbour, and 
they are getting her ready for a trip. Darling, the kettle 
is boiling at last. Mind how you take it off! Oh dear, I’m 
very tired. I hope I shan’t end my days in the workhouse. 
So trying to have to make one’s bed every day. Good 
night, darling! No tea for me, thank you. I haven’t the 
heart to drink it. There’s a bed made up in the room next 
to this. I hope you will find it comfortable. Good night, 
dear ! Good night ! ’ ’ 

The words went into a deep sigh. Mrs. Sheppard sank 
down upon her pillow. And Maud turned with a set face, 
and prepared to leave her for the night. 

Yes, her mother’s words had made an impression upon 
her. They had voiced all the doubt and timnoil in her own 
sad heart. But they had not blotted out that vision of the 
precipice, the rocks, and the black, black whirlpool that 
awaited her at the end of the downward path. 

Neither had they wholly taken from her the memory of 
a man’s eyes, straight and honest and strangely appealing, 
that had looked into hers only a couple of hours before. 

Above her mother’s warnings, above all the trouble and 
the tumult of her soul, she heard a voice within, clear, insist- 
tent, indomitable: “Love is only gained by love. We 
must pour out all we have to win it, purge our hearts of 
all selfish desire, sanctify ourselves by the complete re- 
nunciation of self, before the perfect gift can be ours.”" 

The perfect gift! The perfect gift! She had almost 
ceased to believe in it. But that night she dreamed that 
she had it in her grasp. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE WHIRLPOOL 

I W ELL, Billings, you’re looking as cadaverously 
blooming as ever. How do you do it, man? Did 
someone give you an over-dose of respectability in your 
- youth?” 

Saltash leaned back in his chair smiling up at his wry- 
! faced servitor with insolent humour. 

I Billings, the decorous, betrayed not the smallest sign 
; of surprise or resentment. It was said of him that when 
Saltash had once in a fit of anger flung a wine-glass at his 
: head, he had knelt and collected the fragments and mopped 
up the wine before he had dreamed of retiring to attend to 
the cut on his face that the glass had inflicted. 

On the present occasion he made response with the ut- 
most gravity. ”I can’t say, my lord. Shall I light the 
fire, my lord?” 

“Oh yes, it’s a filthy day, typical of a filthy climate. 
Yes, light the fire, and pull down the blinds, and let’s be 
comfortable!” 

“ It won’t be dark yet, my lord,” observed Billings, with 
a glance at the clock. 

Saltash’s eyes went in the same direction. It was not 
quite three o’clock. “What of that, good Billings? I 
please myself,” he said. “By the way, you might take 
coffee up to the music-room. Leave it to brew up there! 
And when Mrs. Bolton calls tell her I’m out, but I shall be 

441 


442 


The Hundredth Chance 


back in a very short time! Ask her to wait in the music- 
room, and pour her out some coffee! Light the red lamp 
by the piano, but leave the rest! Is that quite clear, Bill- 
ings?’’ 

“Quite clear, my lord.” 

Billings was on his knees before the fire. Saltash leaned 
forward in his chair. 

“Be sure you get her to have some coffee, Billings!” he 
said. “Tell her I specially recommend it.” 

“Very good, my lord.” Billings spoke with his head 
nearly touching the logs of wood he was seeking to kindle. 
“I quite understand, my lord.” 

Saltash got to his feet. “I’ll give you a gold watch if 
you succeed, Billings,” he said. 

“You’re very good, my lord,” said Billings. 

Saltash wandered down the hall. He had a cigarette be- 
tween his lips, but he was not smoking. He reached the 
marble statue near the grand staircase and pressed a 
switch that flooded it with light. Then he stood before it, 
silent and intent. White and wonderful the anguished fig- 
ure shone, but it was rather a figure of death than life. Its 
purity was almost dazzling. Its very agony was unearthly. 

Saltash frowned abruptly and switched off the light. 
Then for a space he stood in the gloom, staring at the vague 
outline. 

Billings came up behind him soft-footed, unobtrusive. 
“The rose light, my lord, was placed on the other side ac- 
cording to your lordship’s orders,” he said deferentially, 
and passed on as if he had not spoken. 

Saltash glanced over his shoulder momentarily, and re- 
sumed his silent contemplation of the figure in the shadows. 

Several seconds passed. Then very suddenly he moved 
again, bent swiftly and pressed another switch. In a mo- 
ment the figme was fully visible again, but no longer did 
it dazzle the eyes with its whiteness. A soft rose radiance 


The Whirlpool 443 

surrounded it. It glowed into life, pulsing, palpitating 
flesh and blood. 

And the man’s eyes suddenly kindled as they passed over 
the naked, straining form. “I have you now, my Cap- 
tured Angel,” he murmured. 

He stood and feasted upon the vision. Once he stretched 
a hand to touch the faultless curve of the breast, but checked 
himself with an odd, flickering smile as though he did 
reverence whimsically to a sacred element in which he had 
no faith. The agonized shame of the thing, poignant, ar- 
resting, though it was, seemed wholly to pass him by. His 
queer, glancing eyes saw only the unveiled voluptuous- 
ness of the form, the perfect contour of the limbs, the ex- 
quisite moulding of each full and gracious line. He dwelt 
upon them all with the look of an epicure. He moved 
again at length, drew near to the statue, reached a hand 
to the dark panelling of the recess behind. It slipped 
inwards noiselessly, disclosing a narrow doorway. In a 
moment he had passed through, and the great hall was 
empty; empty save for that figure of tragic womanhood, 
rose-lighted, piteously alive, standing out against the 
shadows. 

It was nearly half an hour later that an electric bell 
sounded through the silence, and Billings, the respectable, 
came noiselessly through the hall. He swung the great door 
open with a well-bred flourish. 

A woman’s figure clad in a streaming waterproof stood 
on the step, and in a low voice asked for Lord Saltash. Bill- 
ings stood back with a deep bow. “Will you walk in, 
madam?” 

She entered and stood on the mat. He took her um- 
brella and set it aside. 

“Will you permit me to remove your waterproof, 
madam? ” he suggested. 

She seemed to hesitate, but in a moment yielded. “But 


444 The Hundredth Chance 

I can only stay a few moments, ” she said. “ Please tell 
him so!” 

“Quite so, madam!” Billings was deftly removing the 
wet garment. “Up in the music-room, if you please, 
madam. ” 

She suffered his ministrations in silence; only as he 
turned to lead the way she shivered suddenly and uncon- 
trollably. 

She followed him up the dim hall. They approached 
the rose-lit statue. Her eyes were drawn to it. She 
stopped as though involuntarily, stopped and caught her 
breath as if in sudden surprise or dismay. Then quickly she 
passed on. 

They ascended the grand staircase in solemn procession, 
and reached the music-room door. 

Again Billings stood back for her to enter, but when she 
had done so, he closed the door, remaining within. 

The great room was dim and shadowy, heavy with some 
mysterious Eastern fragrance that hung in the air like in- 
cense. It was lighted by two red fires that burned with- 
out flame and a red-shaded lamp that shed a mysterious 
arc of light far away by the piano. 

There was a small table by the further fire, and on this 
a silver coffee-pot hissed over a spirit-lamp. A low divan 
— so low that it looked a mere pile of luxurious cushions — 
stood invitingly close. Billings deferentially led the way 
thither. 

“ If you will be pleased to take a seat, madam, ” he said. 
“ His lordship will not keep you waiting long.” 

“Is he out?” Maud asked quickly. 

“ He has been out, madam. He came in wet through and 
is changing. He begged very particularly that you would 
drink a cup of coffee while you awaited him.” 

He indicated the divan, but Maud remained on her feet. 
The atmosphere of the place disturbed her. It seemed to 


The Whirlpool 445 

be charged with subtleties that baffled her, making her 
vaguely uneasy. 

She had come in answer to a message accompanying a 
great bunch of violets that had reached her that morning. 
She had not wanted to come; but for this once it seemed im- 
perative that she should meet him face to face, and explain 
that which she felt no written words could ever express. She 
had sent him her rash summons, and he had replied by that 
bunch of violets and the request that she would come to 
him since he did not wish to risk interruption from “wa- 
dame la mere^ On this point she had been fully in accord 
with him, and she had sent back word that she would come 
in the afternoon, just to speak with him for a few minutes. 
She had hoped that he would gather from that that since 
the sending of her summons she had repented of her mad- 
ness. It would not be an easy interview, she was sure ; but 
she was not afraid of Charlie. She hated the thought of 
hurting him all the more because she did not fear him. He 
would let her go; oh yes, he would let her go. He had 
never sought to hold her against her will. But that very 
fact would make the parting the more bitter. His half- 
whimsical chivalry was somehow harder to face than any 
fury of indignation. He had hurt her at their last inter- 
view, hurt and disappointed her. But yet the man’s 
fascination overpowered all thought of his shortcomings. 
Already she had almost forgotten them. 

She stood before the fire, absently watching the servant 
as he busied himself over the coffee, till the aromatic scent 
of it suddenly brought her out of her reverie. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said. don’t think I will have 
any. I have only come for five minutes’ talk with Lord 
Saltash.” 

“His lordship particularly desired that you would take 
a cup, madam,” the man replied. '‘It is a very special 
Egyptian brew.” He turned round with a small silver 


446 


The Hundredth Chance 


cup on a salver which he decorously presented. “It is 
supposed to be particularly pleasing to a lady’s palate, 
madam,’’ he said. 

She did not want the coffee, but it seemed ungracious to 
refuse it. She took the cup and set it on the mantelpiece. 

“ It should be drunk very hot, madam, ” said Billings per- 
suasively. “Will you be so very kind, madam, as to 
taste it, and tell me if it is to your liking?” 

She hesitated momentarily, but it was too small a matter 
to refuse. She took the cup by its slender handle and put 
it to her lips. Instantly it was as if a warm current of life 
went through her, a fine, golden thread of delight. 

She looked at Billings and smiled. “It is — delicious,” 
she said. 

Billings looked gratified. “The second cup is generally 
considered even better than the first, madam, ” he said. 

“Oh, I won’t take more than one, thank you,” she said. 

And Billings retired, closing the door soundlessly behind 
him. 

Maud lifted the cup again to her lips. Its fragrance 
pervaded all her senses. It was unlike anything she 
knew, and yet in some subtle fashion it made her think of 
palms and orange-groves, and the strong sunshine of the 
East. It presented before her mind a vivid picture of 
beauties that she had never seen. She drank again; and 
again that strange sense of dawning bliss came to her. 
It was like the coming of a tropic morning after a long, 
black night. Her anxiety was magically lifted from her; 
a sensation of pure gladness, of warmth of soul and body 
began to possess her. It was like drinking in the pure 
essence of sunshine. All things seemed easy, all difficulties 
were smoothed away. She was sme that Charlie would 
understand and be content. Had he not promised to be to 
her whatever she wished? 

She drained the cup, and set it down. It seemed a 


' The Whirlpool 447 

i little strange to her that her hand should be trembling as 
■ she did so ; for all her misgivings had vanished. She had 
i stepped as it were into a garden of delight. A strange, 
}' unearthly happiness was hers. It was as if her life had 
been suddenly and mysteriously filled to the brim with all 
that she could desire. 

The only thing lacking was music. She looked across 
1 ! at the grand piano lighted with that one red lamp, and a 
; haunting memory came to her — came to her. She saw 
i the altar and the glow of the undying flame before it; 
but the flowers — the white lilies of purity — where were 
they? 

A vague distress came to her, Altering as it were through 
locked senses, dispelling the golden rapture, dimming her 
dream. She moved over the polished floor, drawn by that 
red arc of light. She reached the piano. She stood before 
it. And then her dream changed. 

The vision of the altar faded, faded. She slipped down 
before the gleaming keys. She struck a soft, sweet chord. 
And with it the former magic took her. The sun and the 
orange-groves were hers again, and a blue, blue gleam of sea 
came into the picture like the last touch of romance into a 
fairy-tale. As one beneath a spell she sat and wove her 
vision into such music as she had never contemplated 
before. . . . 

As of old, she never knew quite when he came to her. 

; She only realized very suddenly that he was there. His 
, dark face gleamed down at her in the lamplight. His 
odd eyes sent a mocking invitation into hers. 

Again her vision was swept away. Her hands fell from 
the piano, and were caught in the same instant into his. 

“Oh, Charlie!” she gasped incoherently. 

He drew her close, laughing at her with half-teasing 
tenderness. “Oh, Maud!” he said. “0 queen of all the 
roses!” 


448 


The Hundredth Chance 


But she hung back from him. It was almost as if some- 
thing dragged her back. '‘I — I have something to say to 
you, ” she faltered confusedly. “I came to say it. What 
was it? Oh, what was it?” 

His swarthy face was bending nearer, nearer. She saw 
the humorous lift of his black brows. ‘‘You have said it, ” 
he told her softly. “There is nothing left to say. There 
will never again be any need for words between us two.” 

He laughed at her again with a kind of kingly indulgence. 
His arms went round her, pressing her to him, ignoring her 
last, quivering effort to resist. His lips suddenly found her 
own. 

And then it was that her eyes were opened, and her 
memory came back. In a flash of anguished understanding 
she was brought face to face with the realties of life. She 
knew that she had been enmeshed in a dream of evil delight, 
drawn unaccountably, by some hidden, devilish strategy 
to the very edge of that precipice that she had striven so 
desperately to avoid. 

In that moment she would have torn herself free, but 
her strength was gone. Her body felt leaden and powerless ; 
her throat too numb to utter any protest. Her visions had 
all fallen away from her, but she thought she heard the 
roar of the whirlpool below. And through all she was 
madly conscious of the lips that pressed her own, the arms 
that drew her closer, always closer, to the gulf. 

She thought that her senses were leaving her, so utterly 
helpless had she become. An awful cloud seemed to be 
hanging over her, — slowly, slowly descending. Faintly she 
tried to pray for deliverance, but his lips stilled the prayer. 
Against her will, as one horribly compelled, she knew that 
she returned his kiss. 

And then she was lying on the low divan with Charlie 
beside her, holding her, calling her his queen, his captured 
angel — his wife. 


' The Whirlpool 449 

She did not know exactly what happened afterwards, 
for a great darkness took her. She only knew that she was 
(| suddenly lifted and borne away. She only heard the rush 
j of the whirlpool as it closed over her head. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE OUTER DARKNESS 

S OMETHING was waking her. Someone seemed to be 
knocking on the outer door of her brain. She came 
back to consciousness as one returning from a far, far 
journey that yet had occupied but a very brief space of 
time. An inner sense of urgency awoke and responded 
to that outer knocking. As through a maze of disconnected 
impressions she heard a voice. 

“I give you ten seconds, my lord,” it said. “Just — • 
ten — seconds!” 

The words were absolutely quiet, they sounded almost 
suave; but the deadly determination of them smote upon 
her like the call of a trumpet. She started up. 

The next instant she was staring about her in utter 
bewilderment. She was lying on a deep couch in a room 
she had never seen before, a strange, conical chamber, 
oak-panelled, lighted by a domed skylight. It was 
furnished with bizarre Eastern luxury. The couch on 
which she lay was a nest of tiger-skins. 

But she saw these details but vaguely. That voice she 
had heard had made all else of no importance. It had 
spoken close to her, but it was not in the room with her, 
and she could not for the moment tell whence it had come. 
She could only listen with caught breath for more, listen 
with starting eyes fixed on the stuffed skin of a cobra 
poised on a small table near as if ready to strike. She even 

450 


The Outer Darkness 


451 


fancied for a moment that the thing was alive, and then 
realized with a passing relief that it had been converted 
into the stem of a reading-lamp. 

Again the voice came. It was counting slowly, with the 
utmost regularity. 

But it was not allowed to continue. Saltash’s voice, 
quick and imperious, broke in upon it. *^Be quiet, you 
damn* fool! If you murder me, you’ll only be sorry 
afterwards. I have told you I don’t know where she is.” 

“You have told me a lie, my lord.” Grim as fate came 
the answer, and following it a movement that turned her 
sick with fear. 

She sprang to her feet with a wild cry. “Jake! Jake! 
I am here! Jake, — come to me!” 

She threw herself against the panelling of the wall in a 
frenzy of terror, and beat upon it fiercely, frantically. 
There was a door behind her, but instinct warned her that 
it did not lead whither she desired to go. It was through 
the panelling that those sinister words had reached her. 

But it resisted her wild efforts. She beat in vain. “ Oh, 
Jake!” she cried again, and broke into agonized sobbing. 
“Jake, where are you?” 

And then she heard his voice again, short this time 
and commanding. “Let her out, my lord ! The game is up.” 

“Trust a woman to give it away!” said Saltash, and 
laughed a cold, hard laugh. 

The panelling against which she stood suddenly yielded, 
slid back. She found herself standing on the threshold of 
the music-room, close to one of the carved fireplaces. 
And there, face to face with her, one hand thrust deep into 
his breeches-pocket, stood her husband, stood Jake. All 
her life she was to remember the look he wore. 

Saltash was nearer still, but she scarcely saw him. She 
went past him, sobbing, inarticulate, unnerved. She 
stretched out trembling, beseeching hands to the man in 


452 


The Hundredth Chance 


whose eyes she read the lust of murder. She cried aloud 
to him in her agony ! 

‘‘Come away! Oh, come away! Be merciful this once 
— only this once ! J ake ! J ake ! ’ ’ 

She reached him, she clung to him; she would have 
knelt to him. But he thrust his left arm around her, forcibly 
holding her up. 

He did not speak to her, did not, she believed, so much 
as look at her. His eyes were fixed with a terrible intensity 
upon the man beyond her. His attitude was strained and 
unyielding. The untamed ferocity of the wilds was in 
every line of him, in every tense muscle. Ruthlessness, 
lawlessness, savagery unshackled, fiercely eager, beat in 
every pulse, every sinew of his frame. She felt as if she 
were holding back a furious animal from his prey, as if at 
any moment he would burst free, and rend and tear till the 
demon that possessed him was satisfied. 

But she clung to him faster and faster, seeking to pinion 
the murderous right hand that was thrust so deeply away 
out of her reach. She heard another laugh from Saltash, 
but she did not dare to turn. And then came a sound 
like the click of a spring-trap. 

The tension went suddenly out of Jake. He relaxed and 
with a certain cowboy roughness took his hand from his 
pocket and grasped her by the shoulders. His eyes came 
from beyond her, and looked straight into hers. And 
she knew without turning her head that her own hour of 
reckoning had come. They were alone. 

For many, many seconds he looked at her so with a red- 
hot glow in his eyes that seemed as though it would burn its 
way to her most secret soul. She endured it with a desper- 
ate courage. If he had caught her by the throat she would 
not have flinched. But his hold, though insistent, was 
without violence. And at last very, very slowly he let her 
go- 


The Outer Darkness 


453 


! 


“I guess that ends it,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” Through quivering lips she 
; asked the question. She felt as if an icy wind had suddenly 
. caught her. She was cold from head to foot, 
i He made a slight gesture as of one indicating the obvious, 
and turned away. She saw his square figure moving away 
: from her, and a terrible fear went through her. Her very 
: heart felt frozen within her. She tried to speak, to utter 
; his name; but her throat only worked spasmodically, 
i making no sound. 

{ He reached the door, opened it, and then — as if he 
i could not help it — he looked back at her. And in that 
( moment with frantic effort she burst the bonds that held 
I her. She threw out her arms in wild entreaty. 

• “Jake!” she gasped. “Jake! Don’t — don’t leave me!” 
t He stopped, but he did not return. There was a curious 
i look on his face. He seemed to stand irresolute. 

She began to move towards him, but found herself 
trembling too much to walk. She tottered to the mantel- 
piece for support. But she still looked towards him, still 
tremulously entreated him. 

“Jake, you — you don’t understand! You never will 
I understand if you leave me now. I’m going under — I’m 
, going under ! J ake, — save me ! ’ ’ 

She bowed her head suddenly upon her hands, and 
stood quivering. She had made her last piteous effort 
to escape from the toils that held her. Nothing but a 
[ miracle could save her now. Nothing but the power of that 
love that dieth not. 

Seconds passed. She thought that he had gone, had 
abandoned her to her fate, left her to the mercy of a man 
: who would compass her ruin. And she wondered in her 
agony if she could muster sufficient strength to flee from that 
, evil place and snatch her own deliverance down on' the dark, 
lonely shore, where no one could ever drag her back again. 


454 


The Hundredth Chance 


And then very suddenly a hand touched her, closed upon 
her arm. It was as if a current of electricity ran through 
her. She turned with a great start. 

Jake’s eyes, very level, quite inscrutable, looked straight 
into hers. “I guess we’ll be getting along home,” he said. 

His hand urged her steadily, indomitably. He led her 
speechless from the room, supporting her when she faltered, 
but never hesitating or suffering her to pause. 

They came out at the top of the great, branching stair- 
case. The hall below them was lighted only by the soft 
glow that surrounded Saltash’s favotirite statue. The hand 
that held Maud’s arm tightened to a grip. They went 
down the stairs together, and passed the tragic figure 
by. 

As they moved down the long hall, a man stepped sud- 
denly out from behind the statue, and looked after them 
with eyes that shone derisively. He did not utter a word, 
and his movements were without sound. 

Neither of the two was aware of his presence. Only 
as they paused at the outer door, Maud glanced back and 
saw the arc of light about the statue vanish. 

She uttered a quick exclamation, for it was as if the 
marble itself had come to life and fled from her gaze. 
And then she was aware of Jake’s hands fastening her 
waterproof about her, and she forgot all but her longing 
to escape — to escape. 

A few seconds more, and she heard the heavy door shut 
behind them. She was out in the gathering darkness with 
Jake, and the rain was beating in her face. 

It was then that her weakness came back to her, a sense 
of terrible exhaustion that gave her the feeling of dragging 
heavy chains. She fought against it desperately, dreading 
every instant lest he should misinterpret her dragging steps 
and leave her. An overwhelming drowsiness was creeping 
over her, nrunbing all her faculties. She struggled to fling 


The Outer Darkness 


455 

it off, but could not. It crowded upon her like an evil 
dream. She staggered, stumbled, almost fell. 

Jake stopped. “Reckon you’re tired, ” he said. 

She answered him with a rush of tears. “I can’t help 
it! Really, I can’t help it! I — I believe I must be ill.” 

She tried to cling to his supporting arm, but her hands 
slipped weakly away. She felt herself sinking, sinking 
into a black sea of oblivion, and knew it was futile to 
struggle any longer. 

Yet a vague sense of comfort came to her with the con- 
sciousness of his arms tightening around her. She gave 
herself to him like a tired child. She even feebly thanked 
him as he lifted her. 

And then for a long, long space she knew nothing. Bil- 
lows and billows of unfathomable nothingness were over her, 
under her, all about her. Sometimes her drugged brain 
stirred as if about to register an impression, but no actual 
impression reached it. The things of earth had faded 
utterly away. She was as one vaguely floating in a nebulous 
cloud through which now and then, now and then, a dim 
star shone for a moment and then went out. 

After a time even this slender link was snapped. She 
went into a deeper darkness, and there for awhile her 
troubled wanderings were stayed. She slept as she had 
never slept before. It was as if for a long, long space she 
ceased to be. . . . 

Out of the silence at last came a fearful dream. Out of 
a great emptiness she entered another world, a world of 
demon shapes and demon voices, of faces that jeered and 
vanished, a world of terrible, outer darkness, in which she 
seemed to be bereft of all things, to stand as it were naked 
and alone. She dreamed that the statue had come to life 
indeed, and behold, it was herself! In horror unutterable, 
in shame that was agony she went her appointed way, — a 
fallen woman who could never rise again. 


456 


The Hundredth Chance 


And ever a voice within seemed urging her to soar, to 
soar; but she could not. Wings had been given her, but 
she could not use them. One wing had been broken, how 
she knew not. Perhaps it was in beating against the bars 
of a cage. Some such struggle hovered vaguely in her 
memory, but all struggling was over now. All hope of 
escape was dead. 

Again the demon-faces came all about her, demon- 
hands clutched at her, pulling her down. And every face 
was the face of Charlie Bmchester, every hand wore the 
ring which twice over he had given to her. And still she 
heard his laugh, that cruel, bitter laugh with which 'he had 
left her alone in the music-room with Jake. 

At last she knew that she cried aloud to die, but in- 
stantly she realized the futility of her prayer. There was 
no God to hear her in this awful place. And there was no 
Death. 

Yet it was then that it seemed to her that a door was 
opened somewhere very far above her, and a gracious 
breath of purity came down. Crushed as she was, over- 
whelmed with evil, grossly besmirched and degraded, it 
came to her like a puff of morning wind from the clean, 
open spaces of the earth. She turned her face upwards. 
She gasped and opened her eyes. 

And then all in a moment the dreadful vision passed 
away from her, and she saw Jake’s face gazing, gazing into 
hers. 


I' 


^ CHAPTER XX 

DELIVERANCE 

S HE stared at him vaguely for a space half in wonder, 
half in fear. His look was very intent, but it was 
without anger. She wondered hazily what had happened, 
why he was watching her so. 

“Where am I?” she murmured at length. 

■ He made answer very quietly, as if he had expected the 
question. “You are here in the old parlour with me. I 
brought you here.” 

“Oh?” She gazed around her doubtfully. Her brain 
felt clogged and dull. “Have I been away then?” she 
said. “Where is Bunny?” 

He rose and moved across the room to the fire. “Bunny 
is at school,” he said, and stooped to lift off a saucepan. 
“Yes, you have been away. Y ou came back from Liverpool 
yesterday.” 

“Ah!” She gave a quick gasp. The mists were begin- 
ning to clear a little. She became dimly conscious that 
there was something terrible behind. She raised herself 
on her elbow, but was instantly assailed by a feeling of 
sickness so intense that she sank back again. 

She was lying with closed eyes when Jake came back to 
her. He bent over her with a steaming cup in his hand. 
“Try a little of this!” he said. 

She looked up with an effort. “I don’t think I can. 
Jake, what has happened? Am I ill again?” 

457 


45^ The Hundredth Cha.-ce 

“Guess youll remember presently if you drink this,” he 
said. 

She drew back shuddering. * ‘ What is it ? N ot brandy ?” 

“No. It’s beef -tea.” He sat down beside her with a 
resolute air, and she suddenly realized that resistance was 
useless. 

He was very gentle with her, feeding her spoonful by 
spoonful; and gradually as she swallowed it she revived. 
Her brain stirred and seemed to awake. Memory camd 
crowding back. Long ere the cup was finished, that last 
scene in the music-room hung before her like a lurid picture 
from which she could not tear her gaze. 

Quietly Jake set aside the cup. “Maybe you’ll sleep 
better now, ” he said. 

She lifted her heavy eyes to his. “No, I don’t want to 
sleep any longer. Jake, you — you are not going away!” 

He seemed on the point of rising. She stretched out a 
beseeching hand and laid it on his arm. 

“Jake, I — I want to tell you something. Will you 
listen to me? Please, will you listen to me?” 

His arm grew tense as a stretched wire under her touch. 
She thought there was a glitter of hardness in the red- 
brown eyes as he said, “ There is no call for you to tell me 
anything unless you wish.” 

She sat up slowly, compelling herself to face him. “ But 
I want you to — understand,” she said. 

He laid his hand abruptly upon hers with a gesture that 
almost seemed as if he would restrain her. “You needn’t 
fret any about that,” he said. “Reckon I — do under- 
stand.’’ 

The vital force of the man was in that free grip of his. 
She looked to see the awful flare of savage passion leap 
back into his eyes. But she looked in vain. His eyes 
baffled her. They seemed to hold her back like a sword 
in the hand of a practised fencer. 


Deliverance 


459 


The words she had thought to utter died upon her lips. 
There was to be no reckoning then. And yet she could not 
feel reassured. He did not look like a man who would 
forego his revenge. 

“What — what are you going to do?” she faltered at last. 

“I shouldn’t want to know too much if I were you,” 
said Jake, softly drawling. “Not at this stage anyway.” 

His hand still held hers. He looked her hard and straight 
in the face, and she was conscious of something fiery, 
something elementary, wholly uncivilized, behind his 
look. There was a suggestion of violence about him. 
She saw him as a man tracking his enemy through an end- 
less wilderness, breasting mighty rivers, hewing his way 
through pathless forests, conquering every obstacle with 
fixed determination, mercilessly riding him down. 

She braced herself and rose, drawing her hand free. Her 
head still swam, but she controlled herself resolutely. She 
stood before him like a prisoner upon trial. 

“Jake,” she said, “I am going to tell you something 
that will make you terribly angry; but it’s something that 
you must know.” 

She paused, but he sat in silence, grimly watching her. 
She found her resolution wavering and gripped it with all 
her strength. 

“When I came back here from Liverpool, it was not — 
not to see my mother as I gave you to understand. It 
was to — to — ” She faltered under his look, found she 
could not continue, and suddenly threw out her hands in 
piteous appeal. “Jake, don’t make it impossible for me to 
tell you!” 

He rose also. They stood face to face. “Are you going 
to tell me that you lied to me?” he said. 

She drew back from him sharply. The question felt 
like a blow. “lam telling you the truth now, ” she said. 

“And for whose sake?” He flung the words brutally, - 


460 


The Hundredth Chance 


as a man goaded beyond endurance. But the moment 
they were uttered he drew a hard breath as though he would 
recall them. He came to her, took her by the shoulders. 
“You take my advice ! ” he said. “Leave the whole miserable 
business alone! You’ve been tricked — badly tricked. 
You have appealed to me to protect you, and that’s enough. I 
I don’t want any more than that. I reckon I understand 
the situation better than you think. You are trying to tell 
me that it was your original intention to elope with Saltash. 
Well, maybe it was. But you had given up the notion before 
you went to him at the Castle, and he knew you had given 
it up. If he hadn’t known it, he wouldn’t have taken the 
trouble to drug you. It’s an old device — old as the hills. 
He’s probably done it a score of times, and with more success 
than he had to-day. Yes, that makes you sick. I guessed 
it would. And that’s what he’s going to answer to me for, 
— what he’ll ask your pardon for on his knees before I’ve 
done with him.” 

“Oh no, Jake, no!” She broke in upon him with a cry 
of consternation. “For pity’s sake, no! Jake, I can’t 
bear it! I cannot bear it! Jake, I beseech you, leave him 
alone now! Oh, do leave him alone! You — you can 
punish me in any other way. I’ll bear anything but that 
— anything but that! ” 

Piteously she besought him, shaken to the soul by the 
grim purport of his speech. She did not flinch from him 
now. Rather she appealed to him as one in sore straits, 
pouring out her entreaty with all that remained of her 
quivering strength. 

And her words made an impression upon him of which 
she was instantly aware. His hands still held her, but the 
tension went out of his grasp. He looked at her with eyes 
that were no longer hard, eyes that held a dawning com- 
passion. 

“Reckon you’re the last person that deserves punishing, ” 


Deliverance 


461 


he said at length, and in his voice she fancied she caught 
an echo of the old frank kindliness. You’ve been the 
I victim all through. Reckon you’ve suffered more than 
* enough already.” 

She hid her face from him with a sudden rush of tears* 
Something in his words pierced straight to her heart. 

“You don’t know me!” she sobbed. “Oh, you don’t 
know me I” 

She drew herself away and sank down in the chair by 
the fire where once she had poured out all her troubles 
to him. 

He did not kneel beside her now. He stood in silence, 
and as he stood his hands slowly clenched and he thrust 
them into his pockets. 

He spoke at last, but it was with a restraint that made 
the words sound cold. “Maybe I know you better than 
you think. I know you’ve cared for the wrong man ever 
since I first met you. Guess I’ve known it all along, and it 
hasn’t made things extra easy for either of us, more espe- 
cially as he was utterly unworthy of you. But you’re not 
to blame for that. It’s just human nature. And you’d 
never have fallen in love with me anyway.” He paused 
a moment. “I don’t see you’re to blame any for that 
either,” he said, and she knew by his voice that he had 
turned away from her. “Anyway, I’m not blaming you. 
And if — if punishing Saltash means punishing you too — 
well, — even though he’s a skunk and a blackguard — I 
reckon — I’ll let him go.” 

He was moving to the door with the words. They 
came half-strangled as if something within rebelled fiercely 
against their utterance. 

He reached the door and stopped with his back to 
her. 

“You’d better get your mother to join you here to- 
morrow,” he said. “I’m sleeping with The Hundredth 


462 


The Hundredth Chance 


Chance to-night. He’s been below par lately, and I’m 
kind of worried about him.” 

He opened the door. He was on the point of squarely 
passing through when quickly, tremulously, she stopped 
him. 

“Jake, please — please wait a moment! I must — I 
must — Jake 1 ” 

He closed the door again and turned round, but he did 
not come back or even look at her. There was a hint of 
doggedness about him, almost as though he waited against 
his will. 

She stood up. Something in his attitude made it diffi- 
cult, painfully difficult, to speak. She strove for self- 
control. “You — are going to — to forgive me?” she said 
quiveringly. 

He glanced up momentarily, a grim flicker as of a smile 
about his mouth. “For what you haven’t done, and 
never could do? It would be mighty generous of me, 
wouldn’t it?” he said. 

She moved a step towards him. “I — might have done 
it. I — so nearly — did it,” she said, in distress. “I don’t 
deserve any kindness from you, Jake. I — don’t know how 
to thank you for it.” 

He made a sharp gesture with one hand. “If I’ve given 
you more than bare justice,” he said, “ put it to my credit 1 
Make allowance for me next time!” 

Something rose in her throat. She stood for a moment 
battling with it. Bare justice! Had she ever given him so 
much as that ? And he rewarded her with this blind gener- 
osity that would not even be aware of her sin. 

Trembling, she drew nearer to him. She stretched out a 
quivering hand. “Jake,” she said, and the tears were 
running down her face. “I— will try— to be worthy of 
your — goodness to me.” 

He took the hand, gripping it with a force that made her * 


Deliverance 


463 


wince. ‘‘Shucks, my girl!” he said, with a gruffness 
oddly uncharacteristic of him. “That’s nothing. Be 
worthy of yourself!” 

And with that abruptly he let her go, turned and left 
her. She knew by the finality of his going that she would 
see him no more that night. 




II 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE POISON FRUIT 

I T was curiously like the old days to see Jake enter the 
parlour on the following morning with Chops the red 
setter at his heels. But for Chops’ delighted welcome of her, 
Maud could almost have felt that the intervening weeks 
had been no more than a dream. 

She sat in her accustomed place and fondled him. Then, 
as Jake passed her, she put out a detaining hand. 

‘ ‘ Good morning, J ake ! ’ ’ 

Her face was burning; yet she lifted it. He stood a 
second, only a second, behind her chair; then bent and 
touched her forehead with his lips. 

' ‘ Y ou’re down early, ’ ’ he said. * ‘ Have you slept ? ’ ’ 

She nodded, feeling her agitation subside with thankful- 
ness. ‘ ‘ How is — ^The Hundredth Chance ? ” 

Jake went to the fire. “I think he’ll be all right; but 
I won’t trust anyone else to look after him. By the way, 
here’s a letter for you!” 

He held it out to her behind his back. She took it. Her 
fingers closed upon a crest. 

She got up sharply, went to his side, and with a passionate 
movement dropped it straight into the flames. 

“Shall we have breakfast now?” she said. 

“Here’s another letter!” said Jake. 

The grim smile was hovering about Jiis mouth; but he 
made no comment whatever upon her action. 

464 


The Poison Fruit 


465 


She took the second letter. “Is this all?” 

“That’s all,” said Jake. 

“ It’s from Uncle Edward.” She opened it, and began to 
read. 

Suddenly she glanced up and found his eyes upon her. 
They fell instantly. 

“You can read it too,” she said, and held the letter so 
that he might share it with her. 

He stood at her shoulder and read. 

It was a very brief epistle, written in evident distress of 
mind. 

“My dear Grand-niece, 

“Will you permit me to tender to you my very humble 
: apology for the gross behaviour by which I drove you from 
the shelter of my roof? The fact that you have returned 
to your husband’s house convinces me of the base injustice 
of my suspicions. I ought to be old enough to know that a 
woman cannot be judged by her friends. If you find that 
you possess sufficient magnanimity to extend a free pardon 
to a very lonely and penitent old sinner, will you of your 
charity return — for however brief a period — and give him 
. an opportunity to demonstrate his penitence ? 

“Yours humbly and hopefully, 

“Edward Warren.” 

“Oh, poor old man!” Maud looked up quickly. “But 
how did he know I was here?” 

“I wired to him of your safe arrival,” Jake said, “in 
reply to a wire from him which I didn’t read. I thought he 
might come posting down here if I didn’t.” 

“Poor old man!” she said again. And after a moment, 
“Thank you, Jake.” 

. He looked at her. ‘ ‘ For keeping my word ? I generally 
ido that. Say, what are you going to do?” 


30 


466 


The Hundredth Chance 


write to him, ” she said. 

He moved round to his place at the breakfaist-table. 
“You’re not wanting to go back then?” 

She hesitated. 

“What is it?” he said. “Money? I can let you have 
some if you’re short of it.” 

She flushed. “No, Jake, no! I think — I think I’ll stay 
here for the present. I will make him understand.” 

“Please yourself!” said Jake, and opened the morning 
paper. 

A faint sense of disappointment went through her. Shf 
had fancied her decision would have evoked approval il 
not open pleasure from him. She poured out his coffee 
in silence. 

As she brought it to him, he glanced up at' her. “ Don’i 
stay on my account if you feel you’d sooner go!” he said i 
“I get along very well alone.” 

She stiffened ever so slightly. ‘C. “Thank you,” she said , 
“I’ll think about it.” 

Jake fell to work upon his breakfast with his usua : 
business-like rapidity. She did not attempt to keep pac( i 
with him. Somehow the idea that he really wished he; ' 
to go had robbed her of all desire to eat. 

After a time he glanced across at her again. “Are yot; 
going down to see your mother ? ” : 

She answered him somewhat listlessly. “Yes, I suppos', 
so.” I 

“She’ll have to decide on something soon,” he observed I 

Maud bit her lip. The thought of going to her mothej 
again was wholly repugnant to her. She marvelled that h I 
did not see it. 1 

“I am sure she won’t come and live in this place,” sh 
said, after a moment. 

“She can please herself,” said Jake imperturbably. 

That was to be his attitude then. They were to pleas 


The Poison Fruit 


467 


themselves. He had withdrawn his control over her ac- 
tions. An evil spirit suddenly whispered to her that he 
1 would even have left her in Saltash’s keeping had she not 
t: called to him to deliver her. She shook off the poisonous 
: thought; but it had been there. He had been kind — ^more 
tj than kind — to her. She forced herself to dwell upon his kind- 
ness. But his present indifference was even more obvious. 
1 He was engrossed in his work. He had thought only for 
I his animals. Plainly it was a matter of small importance 
j to him if she went or stayed. 

j He finished his breakfast and got up. **Well, so long!’" 

he said. I may not get back before nightfall. I have to 
[ go over to Graydown.*’ 

j She scarcely acknowledged his words, and he did not 
wait for any acknowledgment. He took up his riding- 
whip and went out. Chops looked round at her doul .fully 
and followed him. 

The door closed upon them. And suddenly Maud leaned 
upon the table and hid her face. This was to be her life 
then — the unspeakable dreariness of a loveless home. She 
had thought he loved her. She had thought! She had 
thought ! And now she saw that it began and ended with 
mere kindness, and possibly a sense of duty. His passion 
for her — that fiery, all-mastering desire — had burnt itself 
out, and there was nothing left. An unutterable weariness 
came upon her. Oh, she was tired — she was tired of life 1 

It was then that in some mystic fashion that voice 
which she had once heard spoke again in her soul. “The 
spark is ours for the kindling — the power to love — the 
power to create love. . . 

Was she indeed capable of kindling this lamp in the 
desert? Out of those dead ashes of passion, could Love the 
Immortal indeed be made to rise? 

She sat for a long time and pondered — pondered. 

When, an hour later, she went down the hill to the 


468 


The Hundredth Chance 


town, the day was brilliant and the sky without a cloud. 
The sea was one glorious sheet of blue that seemed to stretch 
away limitless into Infinity. 

Down by the quay a white yacht rocked at her moorings. 
She marked it with a throbbing heart. Why, oh why, did he 
linger? She yearned to thrust him for ever out of her life. 

She reached the Anchor Hotel and entered. The bare- 
ness of the place smote cold upon the senses. She passed 
through it quickly and went up to her mother’s room. 

'‘Oh, my dear, at last!” Querulously Mrs. Sheppard 
greeted her. “Shut the door and come in! Charlie is 
watching for you. He will be over directly.” 

She was clad in an old pink wrapper, and kneeling before 
a half -filled trunk. 

Maud stood still in the doorway, every spark of animation 
gone out of her. “Mother, what are you doing? What do 
you mean? ” 

Her voice sounded frozen and devoid of all emotion. 
Her fingers were clenched rigidly upon the handle of the 
door. She stared at her mother with eyes that were 
suddenly stony. 

“What do you mean?” she repeated. 

Mrs. Sheppard looked up at her smiling. “I mean, 
dear, that while you go for your Mediterranean cruise, I 
am going back to London. Dear me, why did I ever leave 
it? I have never been happy since. Fairharbour never 
suited me. I was saying so to Charlie only last night. He 
told me all about it, dear. Poor child, I hope that horrible 
cowboy person wasn’t very cruel to you. I couldn’t help 
letting out where you had gone yesterday afternoon. He 
came in only a few minutes after you left, and was so 
insistent. But, thank goodness, you’ve broken away. You 
had Charlie’s letter, did you? I told him I was sure you 
would come directly you knew he was waiting. Dear 
Charlie! He really is very good. I quite see his point of 


The Poison Fruit 


469 


view about the poor old ‘ Anchor,* and I really think it is all 
for the best. Giles is gone anyway, and I am released from 
any obligations in that direction. Charlie hated Giles 
for some reason, though I can’t discover that he ever met 
him. Come in, child! Why do you stand there looking 
so tragic? Surely all’s well that ends well?” 

Maud turned stiffly as though her limbs had become 
automatic. “I am going,” she said. “I am going.” 

“Oh, wait till Charlie comes for you, dearest! Don’t 
be too impetuous! I am sure he will come immediately. 
He would be watching the shore from the yacht. Such a 
lovely morning for a cruise too! You will be wanting a few 
little necessaries, dear. I have put them up for you in that 
leather bag. I knew you would never think of that for 
yourself. I believe he means to take you straight to Paris, 
you lucky child. The yacht will go round and wait for 
you at Marseilles. Charlie always does things so royally, 
doesn’t he? He has been most kind, most generous, to 
me.” 

Mrs. Sheppard was talking into the trunk, a smile of 
happy anticipation about her lips that made her almost 
comely again. 

“Really,” she said, “it is quite wonderful how things 
always tiurn out for the best. I only wish I had known a 
year ago how happy you and dear little Bunny were going 
to be. It would have saved me so much anxiety. When 
you are Lady Saltash, of course you will make a home for 
him at the Castle. And there may be just a corner some- 
times for me too, darling. What a happy party we shall all 
be!” 

She threw a smile over her shoulder, and then suddenly 
turned and stared. The door was closed, and she was 
alone. 

Down the wide staircase Maud ran like a wild thing 
seeking freedom, down into the bare, echoing hall. But 


470 


The Hundredth Chance 


the moment she reached it, she stopped — stopped dead as 
one suddenly turned to stone. 

He was waiting for her, there in the sunny open door- 
way, a smile of arrogant satisfaction on his ugly face, and 
triumph, open triumph, in his eyes. 

He came to meet her like a king, carelessly gracious, 
royally self-assured. 

“Ah, Maud of the roses!’* he said. “Free at last!” 

He reached her where she stood, rigidly waiting. He 
opened his arms to take her. And then — as though there 
had been the flash of a dagger between them — he 
stopped. 

She had not moved. She did not move. But the blazing 
blue of her eyes gave him check. For the space of many 
seconds they stood, not breathing, not stirring; and in those ^ 
seconds, as by the light of a piercing torch, each read the 
other’s soul. 

It was Saltash who gave ground at last, but insolently 
with a smile of bitter mockery. “This scene is called 
‘The Unmasking of the Villain,’ ” he observed. “The i 
virtuous heroine, having descended from her pedestal to , 
expose his many crimes, now gathers her mud-stained < 
garments about her and climbs back again, in the confident | 
hope that the worthy cow-puncher who owns her will .* 
conclude that she has never left her exalted position and > 
that the mud was all thrown by the villain. Now, I wonder i 
if the worthy cow-puncher is quite such a fool as that.” 

Her face was quite colourless, but she heard his gibe 
without a sign of shrinking. Only as he ceased to speak, : 
she lifted one hand and pointed to the open door. 

“Go!” she said. 

Just the one word, spoken with a finality more crushing ] 
than any outburst of anger! If it expressed contempt, it ■ 
was involuntary, she uttered only what was in her soul. 

, He looked at her, and suddenly the derision in his eye 


The Poison Fruit 


471 


flamed into fierce malignancy. “Oh, I am going, “ he said. 
“You will never kick me from your path again. You shall 
tread it alone — quite alone except for the cow-puncher who 
no doubt will see to it that you walk on the stony side of the 
way. And I warn you it will be — very stony, especially 
when he comes to realize that his lady wife has been his 
ruin. A tramp across the world with Jake Bolton under 
those conditions will at least destroy all illusions as to the 
stuff of which he is made. And I wish you joy of the 
journey. “ He made her a deep, ironical bow, and swung 
upon his heel. 

But as he went she spoke, suddenly, passionately, as 
though the words leaped forth, compelling her. “Jake 
Bolton is a man — a white man!” 

Saltash laughed aloud, lifting his shoulders as he sauntered 
away. “With the heart of a beast, chere reine,'' he said. 
“For that cause also, I wish you joy.” 

He went. The sun smote through the empty doorway. 
She put up both hands to her eyes as though to blot out some 
evil vision. 

And presently — like a creature that has been sorely 
wounded — she also crept away, fleeing ashamed by another 
door, that no one might observe her going. 

No, Jake was no fool. He saw only what he chose to 
see, believed only what he willed to believe. He had been 
generous to her — ay, generous past all understanding. But 
he was no fool. He had refused the mute offer of her lips 
only that morning. Wherefore? Wherefore? 

The answer lay in Saltash’s mocking words, and all her 
life she would remember them. The poison plant had 
borne its bitter fruit indeed, and she had been forced to 
eat thereof. It burned her now with a cruel intensity, 
consuming her like a darting flame. But she knew by its 
very fierceness that it could not last. Very soon her heart — 
her soul — would all be burnt away; and there would be 


472 


The Hundredth Chance 


only dead ashes left — only dead ashes from which no living 
spark could ever be kindled again. 

No, Jake was no fool — no fool! He would not blame 
her, that was all; because she was a woman. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE LOSER 

*'\TiT}lY doesn’t Maud come back?” said Bunny dis- 

VV contentedly. “ It’s beastly mean of her to stay 
away over the holidays.” 

“You can go to her if you like, my son,” said Jake, 
between whiffs at his pipe. 

“ Oh, I know. But it isn’t the same thing. And besides, 
I’m not going to leave you alone for Christmas, so there! 
Say, Jake, I wonder you put up with it. Why shouldn’t 
we go — the two of us — and fetch her back?” 

“She’s better where she is,” said Jake. “And as to my 
going away, it’s out of the question. I’m a fixture — 
so long as there’s anything left to do.” 

Something in the last words caught Bunny’s attention. 
He looked at him with sudden shrewdness. “What do you 
mean, Jake? What’s up?” 

Jake was silent. He sat moodily smoking and staring 
into the fire. His chin was sunk on his chest. He looked 
older than his years. 

Bunny on the other side of the hearth gazed at him for 
several seconds with close attention. Finally he got up, 
went to him, slipped down on to the arm of his chair. 

“What is it, Jake, old feller? Tell me!” 

Jake looked up, met the warm sympathy in the boy’s 
eyes, and in a moment thrust a kindly arm about the slim 
young figure. 


473 


474 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Don’t you worry about me, little pard!” he said. 
“There ain’t anything the matter that I can’t face out 
by myself.” 

'‘Oh, but that’s rot, Jake.” Bunny’s cheek went down 
against the man’s bronze head and pressed it hard. “What’ s 
the good of bottling it up? ’Sides, you know, Jake, I 
don’t count. I’d die before I’d split.” 

“Guess I know that,” Jake said. 

He hugged Bunny to him as if there were comfort in 
mere contact, but he said no more. 

Bunny hugged him in return, and after a brief silence 
began to probe for the enlightenment he desired. “Why 
do you say Maud is better where she is, Jake? After all, 
she is your wife and no one else’s, isn’t she?” 

Jake puffed at his pipe for a few seconds as if considering 
his reply. At last, “I say it because it is so,” he said. 
“Your Uncle Edward wanted her, and I reckon that’s 
just the silver lining to my cloud. He’s a rich man, I 
gather. He can look after the two of you — if I go under.” 

‘ ‘ J ake ! Y ou aren’t going under ! ’ ’ Horrified incredulity 
sounded in Bunny’s voice. He leaned swiftly forward to 
look into Jake’s face. 

A queer, dogged smile showed upon it for an instant and 
was gone. “ Don’t you worry any, sonny 1 I shall come up 
again,” said Jake. “I’ve been under before, practically 
down and out. But it hasn’t killed me. It ain’t going to 
kill me this time. So long as you and Maud are provided 
for, I can fend for myself.” 

“But Jake, what’s it mean? You haven’t lost money?” 
urged Bunny in bewilderment. 

“No. I’ve got a little money. There are plenty of 
poor devils worse off than I.” Jake leaned his head back 
against Bunny’s wiry arm. There was a fighting gleam in 
his eyes. “But it ain’t enough to keep me going. If it had 
been, I reckon I shouldn’t have waited for notice to quit.” 


The Loser 


475 

' “Is that what you’ve got? Jake, you^aren’t in earnest! 
t Charlie wouldn’t be such a blackguard!” 

’ Jake uttered an abrupt laugh; his teeth were clenched 
^ on his lower lip. “Oh, Charlie’s a blackguard all right — ’ 
; blackguard enough for anything. Don’t you ever make 
( any mistake about that ! But I presume it’s up to him to 
sell the stud if he feels so disposed. There ain’t anything 
specially blackguardly in that. It’s just his polite way 
■ of telling me to git.” 

“Sell the stud! Is that what he’s going to do? Oh, 
Jake, old feller! Jake!” Shocked sympathy was in 
Bunny’s voice. 

I Jake hugged him harder. “I hadn’t meant to tell you 
on your first night. But you’re such a shrewd little chap. 
And you’ve, got to know sooner or later. Don’t^ make an 
all-fired fuss about it anyway!” 

“All right, Jake.” Bunny sounded^ a little^ breathless, 
but there was resolution in his voice. “It’s you I’m 
thinking of. When — when’s it going to- be?” 

“The sale? Early in the year I expect. I haven’t any 
definite instructions as to that. I’lfi expecting ’em every 
day. All I’ve been told officially at present is to cancel all 
engagements. Of course I guessed wHat was in the wind 
then. I tackled old Bishop the Agent* about it the other 
day ; and he had to confirm it. Ah, well ! ” Jake heaved an 
abrupt sigh that seemed to catch him tmawares, and 
became silent. 

“P’raps he won’t sell ’em all, Jake,” said Bunny hesi- 
tatingly. “He coiddn’t — surely — sell The Hundredth 
Chance ! ” 

Jake’s pipe suddenly cracked between his teeth. He 
sat up sharply, and took it out of his mouth. It fell in 
twain between his fingers. He sat staring at it, then with 
a curious reverence he stooped forward and dropped the 
pieces into the heart of the fire. 


476 


The Hundredth Chance 


“Yes,” he said heavily. “I reckon The Hundredth 
Chance will go with all the rest.” 

He looked at Bunny, and there was desolation in his 
eyes ; but he gave it no verbal expression. And Bunny also 
found that the subject demanded silence; it was beyond 
words. 

“Does Maud know?” he asked at length, speaking rather 
doubtfully, as if not quite sure of his ground. 

“No. I didn’t want to worry her before I need.” Jake’s 
eyes went back to the fire, gazing into it, dumbly troubled. 
“I fancy there’s no doubt that the old man will provide 
for her — for both of you. That’s what I’m counting on 
anyway.” 

Bunny made an abrupt movement of impatience. “Oh, 
damn all that, Jake! What of you?” 

For the first time his strong language went unrebuked. 
Jake’s eyes remained fixed upon the fire where burned the 
remains of his treasure. He spoke slowly, as one reading 
words but dimly discerned. 

“Reckon I shall go back to America. I shall find my 
feet again there. There’s no call for you to be anxious 
about me. Guess I shan’t starve.” 

“Jake!” Bunny’s arm went round his shoulders, grip- 
ping them hard. He spoke into Jake’s ear, a rapid, nervous 
whisper. ‘‘Jake, if you’re going to America, I reckon I’m 
coming too. There’s no one worth speaking to after you. 
I just won’t be left behind. I’ll work, Jake. I’ll work like a 
nigger. I won’t be a drag on you. But I can’t stay behind 
■ — not after all you’ve been to me. Jake, Jake, old feller, 
say you’ll have me! I’m as strong as a horse. And I’d 
sooner starve along with you than be left without you. 
I — I — Jake, old feller, please!” He suddenly bowed his 
head upon Jake’s shoulder with a hard sob. 

“Little pard!” Jake said, and pulled him down beside 
him. “Don’t act the fool now! That ain’t like you!” 


The Loser 


477 


Bunny clung to him almost fiercely. “You shan’t lose 
everything, Jake. First Maud, and then the animals, 
and then the home, — and — and — ^me too. You like me a 
bit, don’t you, Jake?” 

“Just a bit,” said Jake, rufiling the black head. 

“ Then let me come with you, Jake ! I’ll do whatever you 
tell me. I — I’ll black your boots for you every day. I’ll 
do anything under the sun. Only don’t leave me behind! 
I miss you badly enough at school. But I can’t stick it — 
t without you — altogether.” 

I ‘ ‘ Shucks ! Shucks ! ” said Jake very softly. 

He was holding Bunny in his arms in the old brotherly 
i way. They were too close to one another for any boyish 
dignity to come between. The bond that linked them had 
been forged in the fires of adversity, and adversity served 
; but to strengthen it. 

“I can’t!” Bunny reiterated. “You don’t know what 
you are to me, Jake. You’ve just made me. And I — I 
feel as if I’ll all come undone again if you go right away.” 

“I haven’t gone yet,” Jake said, in a drawl that was 
slightly unsteady. “But if it is to be, Bunny lad, — 
and God knows it’s more than likely — you can do a bigger 
thing for me by staying back here — along with Maud — 
than if you came along and roughed it with me. You’ll 
be the link between us, boy, when — all the other links are 
gone.” 

He became silent, gently smoothing the hair that he had 
ruffled. 

Bunny was silent also for a space. It was as if something 
sacred had come into their communion. At last with his 
head still pillowed on Jake’s shoulder he spoke. 

“Say, Jake!” 

Jake’s arm tightened almost as if he would silence him, 
but he said nothing. 

An4 Bunny persisted. “Jake, old chap, it doesn’t take 


478 


The Hundredth Chance 


a prophet to see that things aren’t as they should be be- 
tween you two. I’m beastly sorry. I know jolly well 
it’s not your fault.” 

“It ain’t hers,” Jake said, almost under his breath. 

“No. I guess it’s that blackguard Charlie. I wish I 
were a man. I’d shoot him!” said Bunny vindictively. 

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Jake said, faint humour in his 
voice. “Besides, there’s nothing to shoot him for now. 
He’s as much a loser as I am.” 

“What! They’ve quarrelled?” questioned Bunny. 
“Where is he? At the Castle?” 

“No. Heaven knows where he is. He’s been gone 
for the last six weeks and more.” 

“It’s twice that since Maud went away,” observed 
Bunny uneasily. “Why on earth doesn’t she come back, 
Jake? She’s not — not — afraid of you?” 

“She has been back once in that time,” Jake said 
quietly. “She stayed one night with your mother at 
‘ The Anchor.’ The place is shut up now, and your mother 
has gone back to London. I thought possibly that she 
would have settled down here a bit with Maud. But she 
didn’t quite see it. And it was as well, for the old uncle 
wrote asking Maud to go back to him, and she went. ” 

“Without consulting you?” asked Bunny quickly. 

“She didn’t consult me certainly, but she knew I was 
willing for her to go.” Jake spoke with a touch of re- 
straint. 

Bunny raised his head and looked at him with sudden 
shrewdness. “Who did she want to get away from? You? 
Or Charlie?” 

A flicker that was scarcely humorous crossed Jake’s 
face. “Maybe both,” he said. 

“And you — ^you quarrelled with Charlie?” 

“No. Seeing he was a loser, I let him go in peace. It 
was the only thing to do.” 


The Loser 479 

“And he has got his knife into you on that account?” 
questioned Bunny. 

“Maybe,” Jake admitted. 

“Then he’s a low hound, and I’d love to tell him so.” 

“Where’s the use? Reckon he knows it all right,” 
said Jake dryly. 

“I hope Maud knows it too!” 

“She does,” said Jake. 

Bunny looked slightly mollified. “That’s something 
anyway. Say, Jake?” 

“What is it, my son?” Jake’s red-brown eyes looked 
at him with a tenderness that only Bunny was ever al- 
lowed to see. 

Bunny’s head went back to its resting-place against 
his shoulder swiftly, endearingly. “Jake, Jake, old man, 
why don’t you go back to her? Maybe she’s wanting you — 
and hasn’t the pluck to say so. Women are like that, you 
know. ” 

Jake was silent. 

“Give her the chance, Jake!” Bunny urged. “You 
don’t know her like I do. She always was shy. Lots of 
people thought her proud, but it was mostly shyness. Give 
her the chance, Jake, old fellow! Just this one chance! 
It may make all the difference.” 

Think so?” said Jake. 

“Course I do. I know Maud. She’d sooner die than 
show you her feelings. But she’s got ’em all the same. 
Maybe she’s wanting you — quite a lot, Jake. You can’t 
tell.” 

“And maybe she’s not,” said Jake. 

“Oh don’t — don’t be an ass, Jake! Come along and 
find out anyway! It’s — it’s up to you, Jake. And there’s 
no one else in the running.” 

A whimsical smile touched Jake’s grim mouth. “Guess 
that’s just what makes it so diflScult, ” he said. “Is 


480 


The Hundredth Chance 


anyone at all in the running? I’d sooner draw a loser than 
a blank.” 

Bunny lifted a hot, earnest face. “Don’t be an ass, 
Jake!” he urged again. “Go in, man! Go in and win! 
You love her, don’t you?” 

It was a straight shot, and it found its mark. Something 
fiery, something wholly untamed, leaped into Jake’s eyes. 
They shone like a flame upon which spirit has been poured. 
Bunny pulled himself free with a sound that was almost a 
whoop of triumph. “You silly coon ! Go and tell her so ! ” 
he said. “I’ll bet you never have yet!” 

And Jake uttered a laugh that was curiously broken.' 
“You’re getting too damn’ clever, my son,” he said. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE STORM WIND 

I 

T T*LL be real sport to take her by surprise, ** said Bunny, 
If, 1 with a chuckle of anticipation. '‘But what a beast of 
a journey it’s been!” 

f They had been travelling practically all day, and a black 
night of streaming rain had been their welcome. 

I They had found accommodation at the hotel in which 
Maud had once spent a night, and having dined there they 
splashed through the muddy streets in search of their 
goal. 

They found it, a tall, gaunt house standing back in a 
dark, dripping garden, unlighted, forsaken. 

"It can’t be the place!” said Bunny, for the first time 
feeling his ardour for the adventure slightly damped. 

"We’ll soon find out,” said Jake. 

They groped their way to a flight of steps and with the 
aid of a match found the bell. It rang desolately through 
the building. 

"The house is empty!” declared Bunny. 

But after a considerable pause a step sounded within, 
and a white-faced maid-servant opened to them. 

"Come in!” she said, in a hollow voice. "You’re very 
late.” 

"Mrs. Bolton here?” asked Jake, as he stepped on 
to the mat. 

She nodded as if in agitation. "Yes, I’ll tell her.” 

31 481 


482 


The Hundredth Chance 


She shut the door behind them and went away, leaving 
them in the narrow, dimly-lighted hall. 

“What arum go!” said Bunny. 

Jake said nothing. He was gazing into the shadows in 
front of him with intent, searching eyes. How wotild she 
greet him? Would she be glad? Would she be sorry? He 
watched for her face, and the first instinctive expression it 
would wear at sight of him. 

There came the rustle of a dress, a footfall that was light 
and yet somehow sounded weary. She came through the 
dim hall with a slow, tired gait. 

“Good evening 1 ’* she said. “Will you come upstairs? “ 

Bunny’s fist suddenly prodded Jake in the back. He 
went forward a step almost involuntarily. 

“Maud!” he said. 

^ ‘ J ake ! ’ ’ She stood as one transfixed . 

And in that moment he forgot to notice how she looked 
at him, forgot everything in the one overwhelming thought 
that he was with her. He strode forward, and somehow her 
two cold hands were in his before he knew whether he had 
taken or she had offered them. 

“My girl!” he said, and again huskily, “My girl!” 

She lifted a quivering face. “Jake, thank you for com- 
ing ! I — I hardly thought you could have got here so soon. ’ ’ 

He drew her to him and kissed her. ‘ ‘ Y ou’ ve been want- 
ing me?” he said. 

She nodded. “I sent for you, yes. I — I didn’t feel as 
if I could — face it all — by myself.” 

His hold was warm, full of sustaining strength. “You’ll 
have to tell me what has happened,” he said. “I didn’t 
get your message.” 

“You didn’t?” She looked momentarily startled. 
“Then why are you here?” 

“I came — ” he hesitated, glanced over his shoulder. 
“Bunny’s here too,” he said. 


The Storm Wind 


483 


“Thought we’d just look you up,” said Bunny, emerg- 
ing from the background. “Hullo, Maud! What’s the 
matter? Is the old man ill?” 

She turned to greet him. “He died yesterday,” she 
said. 

‘ ‘ Great Scott I ” said Bunny. 

Jake said nothing. He was watching her closely, closely. 

She kissed Bunny lingeringly, but without emotion. “He 
was only ill five days, ” she said. “ It was a chill and then 
pneumonia. I nursed him right up to the last. He would- 
n’t have anyone else. In fact he wouldn’t let me out of his 
sight. ” Her face quivered again, and she paused. Then 
drearily, “ I was expecting the undertaker when you came 
I in,” she said. “I’ve had to arrange everything. The 
I funeral will be the day after to-morrow. Will you come 
I into the dining room? There’s a fire there.” 

She led the way to that stiff and cheerless apartment. 
Bunny pressed close to her and pushed his hand through her 
arm. 

“Say, Maud, old girl, you’re ill yourself,” he said. 

She looked at him out of deeply shadowed eyes. “No. 
I’m not ill; only tired, too tired to sleep. There is some 
wine in that cupboard, dear. Do you mind getting it out? 
You and Jake must have some.” 

She went over to the fire almost as one moving in a dream, 
and stood before it silently. 

Jake came to her, put a kindly arm about her. “You 
must go to bed, my dear,” he said. “You’re worn 
out. ” 

She shook her head with a rather piteous smile. “Oh 
no, I can’t go for a long while yet. I must get some rooms 
ready for' you and Bunny.” 

“You won’t need to do that,” he said. “Bunny is 
putting up at the hotel round the corner. And I can sleep 
just anywhere.” 


484 


The Hundredth Chance 


She let herself lean against him. ‘ ‘ Thank you for coming, 
Jake,” she said again. 

She was plainly worn out, and from that moment Jake 
took command. He made her sit in one of the stiff velvet 
chairs in front of the fire, made her drink some wine, and 
finally left her there with Bunny in charge. 

She was absolutely docile, gladly relinquishing all re-| 
sponsibility. To Bunny she gave a few halting details of 
the old man's death, but she could not talk much. The 
strain of those days and nights of constant watching had 
brought her very near to a complete breakdown. She was 
so tired, so piteously tired. 

She dozed presently, sitting there before the fire with him, 
holding his hand. It was so good to have him there, so 
good to feel that there was someone left to love her, to 
think for her, so good to know that Bunny — though he had 
ceased to be the one aim and end of her existence — had not 
drifted wholly out of her life. 

It must have been more than an hour later that she was 
aroused by a few whispered words over her head, and sat 
up to see Bunny on his feet, preparing to take his de- 
parture. 

She looked up in swift distress. “Oh, are you going? 
Must you go?” 

“Yes, he must go,” Jake said gently. “He’ll get locked 
out if he doesn’t. And the little chap’s tired, you know, 
Maud. He’s been travelling all day and wants a good 
night’s rest.” 

That moved her. Though Bunny disclaimed fatigue 
she saw that he had been sleeping also. All the mother in 
her rose to the surface. 

“Yes, of course, dear. You must go,” she said. “I 
wish you could have slept here, but perhaps it’s better you 
shouldn’t. Can you find your way alone? Jake, won’t 
you go with him?” 


The Storm Wind 


485 


But Bunny strenuously refused Jake's escort. He bade 
her good night with warmth, and she saw that he hugged 
Jake at parting. And then the door closed upon him, 
and Jake’s square figure came back alone. 

He came straight to her, and bent over her. “ My dear, ” 
he said, “you’re tired to death. You must go to bed.” 

She shook her head, wanly smiling. “It’s no good going 
to bed, Jake. I’m much happier here. Directly I lie down 
I am wide awake. Besides, I’m too tired to get there.” 

“All right. I’ll put you there,” he said. 

“No, no, Jake. ” She stretched out a quick hand of pro- 
test; but there was no holding him off. 

His arm was already about her; he lifted her to her feet. 
His face wore the old dominant look, yet with a subtle 
difference. His eyes held nought but kindness. 

She yielded herself to him almost involuntarily. “I 
haven’t been to bed for nearly a week,” she said. “I’ve 
slept of course in snatches. I used to lie down in Uncle 
Edward’s room. Poor dear old man! He wanted me so. ” 
Her eyes were full of tears. “I — I was with him when he 
died, ” she whispered. “We had arranged to have a nurse 
this morning, but the end came rather quickly. We knew 
his heart was weak. The doctor, said — it was better for 
him really — ^that he went like that.” 

“Why didn’t you send for me sooner?” Jake said. 

Her pale face fiushed. She turned it from him. 

“I didn’t think — ydu would want to come. It wasn’t 
till — till I got frightened at the dreadful emptiness that — 
that — ” She broke off, fighting with herself. 

“All right. Don’t try to tell me! I understand,” he 
said soothingly. He went up the long, dim staircase with 
her, still strongly supporting her. He entered her room as 
one who had the right. 

The tears were running down her face, for she could not 
check them. She attempted no remonstrance, suffering 


486 


The Hundredth Chance 


him like a forlorn child. And as though she had been a 
child, he ministered to her, waiting upon her, helping her, 
with a womanly intuition that robbed the situation of all 
difficulty, meeting her utter need with a simplicity and 
singleness of purpose that could not but achieve its end. 

“You treat me as if — as if I were Bunny,” she said 
once, smiling faintly through her tears. 

And Jake smiled in answer. “A man ought to be able 
to valet his own wife,” he said. 

The words were simply uttered, but they sent the blood 
to her cheeks. “You — you are very good to me,” she 
murmured confusedly. “I — ought not to let you.” 

“ Don’t you worry any about that ! ” said Jake. “The 
main idea is to get 37'ou to bed.” 

“ I am sure I shall never sleep again, ” she said. 

Yet as she sank down at last upon the pillow there was 
a measure of relief in her eyes. 

“Now you’re going to lie quiet till morning,” Jake 
said, tucking in the bedclothes with motherly care. “ Good 
night, my girl! Is that comfortable?” 

He kissed her for the second time, lightly, caressingly, 
exactly as he might have kissed a child. 

She tried to answer him, to thank him, but could not. 
He smoothed the hair from her temples, and turned 
away. 

But in that moment her hands came out to him with a 
gesture that was almost convulsive, caught and held his 
sleeve. “Oh, Jake!” she said. “Jake! I’m so lonely!” 
and suddenly began to sob — “I want you more than 
Bunny does. Don’t go! Don’t go!” 

It was a cry of utter desolation. He turned back to her 
on the instant. He stooped over her, his face close to 
hers. “Do you mean that?” he said, and in his voice, 
low as it was, there sounded a deep note as of something 
forcibly suppressed. 


The Storm Wind 487 

She clung to him, hiding her face against the rough tweed 
coat. “ I’ve no one else, ” she sobbed. 

“Ah!” Jake said. A very strange look came into his 
face. His mouth twitched a little as if in self-ridicule. 
“But, my girl,” he said, “I reckon you’d say that to any- 
one to-night. ” 

“No — no!” Quiveringly she answered him. “I say 
it to you — ^to you! I’m — so terribly — alone, — so — so — - 
empty. Uncle Edward used to tell me — what it meant to 
be lonely. But I never knew it could be — like this. ” 

“Poor girl ! ” J ake murmured softly. ‘ ‘ I know — I know . ’ ’ 

The look of faint irony still hovered about his lips, but 
his voice, his touch, conveyed nothing but tenderness. He 
was stroking the dark hair with a motherliness that was in- 
finitely soothing. 

She was holding his other hand tightly, tightly, against 
her breast, and it was wet with her tears. “I’ve been — so 
miserable,” she told him brokenly. “I know it’s been — 
no one’s fault — but my own. But life is so difficult — so 
difficult. I’ve treated you badly — badly. I haven’t done 
— ^my duty. I’ve always yearned for the things out of reach. 
And now — and now — oh, Jake, my world is a desert. I 
haven’t a friend left anywhere. ” 

“That’s wrong,” Jake said in his voice of soft decision. 
“You’ve got me. I mayn’t be the special kind of friend 
you’re wanting. But — as you say — I reckon I’m better 
than nothing. And I’m your husband anyway.” 

* ‘ My husband — ^yes. That ’s why — I sent for you. J ake , ’ ’ 
she hid her face lower, deeper into his coat, “if — if I 
had had — a child, would it — would it — have made you 
happy?” 

“Oh, that!’' Jake laid his head down suddenly on the 
pillow above hers. He spoke into the thick darkness of 
her hair. “My girl, don’t cry so! I wanted it — yes!” 

She moved slightly, stretched a hesitating hand upwards, 


4^8 


The Hundredth Chance 


touched his face, his neek. “Jake, it — it would make me 
happy — too.” 

He put his arm about her as she lay, and gathered her 
close to him, not speaking. 

She was trembling all over, her face was still hidden. 
But she yielded to the drawing of his arm, clinging to him 
blindly, desperately. 

He held her so for a little space, then with steady in- 
sistence he moved his other hand, beginning to turn her 
face upwards to his own. She tried to resist him, but he 
would not be resisted. In the end panting, quivering, she 
yielded very suddenly. She lifted her face voluntarily to 
his. She offered him her lips. But her eyes were closed. 
She palpitated like a trapped thing in his hold. 

Yet when his lips met hers, she returned his kiss; and it 
was for the first time in her life. 

She slept that night in the shelter of his arms, safe 
from the desolate emptiness of her desert. And if she 
dreamed that she had gone baek into the house of bondage 
for the sake of the fire that btuned there, the dream did not 
distress her, nor did the fire scorch. Rather the warmth 
of it filled her lonely spirit with such comfort as she had long 
ceased to hope for. And the steady beat of a man’s heart 
lulled her to a deeper rest. 

When the dim dawnlight came filtering in, Jake’s eyes 
turned to meet it with a lynx-like watchfulness as of an 
animal on guard. There was no sleep in them. He had not 
slept all through the night. His face was grim and still, 
and there was a hint of savagery — or was it irony? — about 
his mouth. For the second time in their lives Fate had 
driven her to him for refuge. Like a bird out of the storm 
she had come to him, perchance but for that one night’s 
shelter. Already a eontrary wind was blowing that might 
sunder them forever. With the coming of the day, they 
might drift apart and meet no more at all, so slender was 


The Storm Wind 489 

the bond between them, so transient their union. For he 
knew that she loved him not, had never loved him. 

His eyes grew harder, brighter. They shone with a great 
and bitter hunger. He turned them upon her sleeping 
face. And then magically they softened, grew pitiful, 
grew tender. For though she slept, the veil was lifted, 
and he read the sadness of her soul. 

His lips suddenly trembled as he looked upon her, and 
the irony went out of him like an evil spirit. Whether she 
loved him or loved him not, she was his, she was his, till 
the storm wind drove her from him. 

And she needed him as she needed no one else on earth. 

His arms clasped her. He gathered her closer to his 
breast. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE GREAT BURDEN 

“T3Y Jove!” said Bunny, in a voice of awe. never 

JD thought of that I Then — Maud — will be rich, will 
she? Rich as Croesus! Just think of it! Maud!”_ He 
drew a deep breath that ended in a whistle. Puts a differ- 
ent complexion on things, eh, Jake, old feller?” he said. 

“Quite different,” said Jake. 

He stood at the window, gazing forth into the murky at- 
mosphere with his brows drawn. He looked like a man 
searching the far distance. 

Bunny glanced at him questioningly. “What does she 
say to it? Was it a great shock?” 

“ I don’t know. I think it was. She said he once offered 
to provide for the two of you, and leave you provided for at 
his death. But that was before her marriage. ” 

“And now he’s gone and left her the whole caboodle! 
Say, Jake, what’s it come to? Did the lawyer chap give 
you any idea?” 

[ i “No one knew what the old man was worth, ” Jake said, 
with his eyes still fixed steadily ahead. “Pie wasn’t very 
great at spending money. But he owned a large factory, 
and had a vested interest in several others, besides some 
thousands in other concerns. The lawyer put it down 
at not less than two hundred and fifty thousand.” 

“Jake!” Bunny began to execute an ecstatic war dance 
behind him. 


490 


The Great Burden 


491 


Jake wheeled sharply. “Don’t do that here, Bunny! 
It’s not decent.” 

Bunny stopped. “Oh, sorry, Jake! I forgot. But 
aren’t you pleased, old feller? You don’t look it. Or is it 
just decency on your part?” 

“I’m pleased she’s got enough to live on, yes,” Jake 
said. “I don’t know that a whole pile is specially good for 
anyone. And now look here, young chap 1 I’m goin" back 
directly after the funeral — I’ve got to go — and you’re to 
stay and take care of her. ” 

Bunny’s face fell. “Oh, I say, Jake, I’d sooner come 
with you.” 

“That may be.” Jake smiled momentarily. “But 
you’ve got to do as you’re told. See?” 

Bunny looked mutinous. “ But she won ’t want me, J ake. 
She’ll be much too busy. And this is such a beastly 
hole. And there’s the hunting. You promised I might 
hunt these holidays. Oh, I can’t stick here. I shall only 
be in the way. ” His eyes flashed sudden rebellion. “Can’t 
and won’t, Jake!” he said boldly, “so that’s settled.” 

He stood and defied Jake openly for an instant, then flung 
round with a dogged air and walked away. 

J ake remained motionless watching him. ' ‘ Say, Bunny ! ” 
he said after a moment, his voice very soft and drawling. 

Bunny came to a stand before the fire which he poked 
with considerable violence. He did not turn his head. 

“Put that thing down!” The order came from the fur- 
ther end of the room, but he obeyed it. 

There fell a brief silence, then from his post by the win- 
dow Jake spoke. “You can do as you like about it. You 
can come back with me to the Stables. But you’ll do all 
your riding on a leading-string if you do. And if you hunt, 
it’ll be on foot.” 

Bunny’s face flamed scarlet. ^‘Jake, you’re a beast!” 
he said. 


492 


The Hundredth Chance 


“ Oh, I can do beastlier things than that, ” Jake said. “I 
can give you one hell of a time, my son. I m dashed in- 
genious in that respect when I give my mind to it.” 

Bunny growled something deep in his throat, and kicked 
the coals with a savage foot. 

Jake turned deliberately round, and looked at him, 
watched him with the utmost patience till he desisted; 
then, 

“Come here now,” he said, “and have your head 
punched!” 

Bunny growled again less articulately, more ferociously. 

J ake left the window. The boy wheeled to meet him with 
the glare of a tiger. “Touch me if you dare!” he 
exclaimed. 

There was a faint, relentless smile on Jake’s face. He 
took Bunny by the shoulders, and looked him full and 
straight in the eyes. 

Bunny stood before him for a space, with clenched hands. 
Then he dropped his own eyes sullenly before that stern re- 
gard — slowly lowered his head. There fell a tense silence; 
then : “ Get onVith it, Jake ! ” he said in a voice half-sulky, 
half -submissive. And Jake abruptly moved, struck him 
twice lightly on the side of the head. “That’s for using 
the forbidden language, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ And that’s for general 
fooling around. A taste of the leather would do you good, 
only I can’t leather a jolly little cock-sparrow like you. 
Don’t you think you’re rather a fool. Bunny? I do.” 

“ I’m a damn’ cad ! ” Bunny said with shaky vehemence, 
and pulled himself away with the words. “I can’t help it. 
I don’t see much of you now. And I do hate being left be- 
hind. ” 

He turned his back on Jake and leaned dejectedly against 
the high mantelpiece. But J ake’s arm went round his shoul- 
ders, giving him a comforting squeeze. 

“ Don’t you know I’m trying to make a partner of you, my 


The Great Burden 


493 


son? ” he said in his soft voice. “You needn’t be so mighty 
difficult to handle. What I’m on to now is more than a 
one-man job. I’m wanting all the help I can get. ” 

Bunny laid a hot cheek against his hand. “You know 
I d do anything for you, Jake,” he said. He swallowed 
once or twice hard and faced round. “Anything under the 
sun,” he said. 

Jake’s hand smote him the blow of good-fellowship. “I’m 
counting on — ^just that, sonny,” he said. 

He turned roupd with the words. Someone was entering 
the room. 

“Hullo!” said Bunny. “Hullo, Maud!” 

He moved to meet his sister with a curious new shyness. 
She looked pale, aloof, very sad. 

“Jake has been telling you?” she said. 

Bunny nodded. “It’s rather great, isn’t it?” he said. 

She came slowly forward, not looking at Jake. “It’s too 
great,” she said. “I might have been glad of it once. 
But now — now — ” She broke off. 

Jake drew forward a chair. “Reckon you’ll find it just 
as useful now as then,” he said. 

She glanced at him quickly, and a tinge of colour rose in 
her face. “Oh, I daresay we shall all find it useful,” she 
said. 

Jake’s expression was enigmatical. He stood up square- 
ly, looking straight before him. “You’ll be able to buy 
anything and everything you want,” he said, “to live 
where and how you like ; in short you’ll be in a position to 
create your own atmosphere. Money is freedom; re- 
member that ! If you choose to buy a team of camels and 
trundle off into the desert, there’s no one can prevent you. ” 

She shivered as if a cold blast had struck her, and leaned 
towards the fire. “ I’m not particularly fond of the desert, ” 
she said, in a low voice. 

“Oh, you needn’t go alone,” Jake said. “You’ll be 


494 


The Hundredth Chance 


able to buy your friends by the score and populate all the 
lonely places.’' 

There was no sound of scoffing in his voice. It was even 
not without a hint of kindliness. But she shook her head in 
silence. 

And suddenly Bunny knelt down beside her, thrusting an 
impetuous arm about her waist. *‘Say, Maud, he’s only 
rotting. We’ll have a ripping time together presently. 
Don’t be so down in the mouth, old girl ! There’s plenty of 
fun to be got out of life.” 

She smiled with lips that trembled. I’m afraid I’m get- 
ting rather old, Bunny,” she said wistfully, ‘‘old enough 
anyhow to know that money doesn’t bring happiness.” 

“ Depends how you spend it, ” maintained Bunny stoutly. 
“Of course it is a downright curse to the people who 
hoard it — like that beast who buried his talent. But you 
can make any amount of happiness out of it if you try. 
Think of the crowds you can reach with it ! That’s where the 
fun comes in. Why, you reap as fast as you sow ! ” 

Maud made a sudden quick gesture. “Bunny! How 
curious that you should say that!” 

“Why?” Bunny opened his eyes in surprise. 

“Oh, never mind 1 It reminded me of something — some- 
thing rather big — I once heard in a church here.” Maud 
gently passed on as though it were a matter too sacred for 
discussion. “Perhaps you’re right, dear. Perhaps there 
is happiness to be got out of it. Anyhow we’ll try, won’t 
we? Won’t we, Jake?” 

There was almost a note of entreaty in her voice; but 
she received no answer. She turned sharply. Jake had 
gone. 

“Never mind!” said Bunny, quick to console. “He’s 
busy. Letters or something. But you’ve got me. Say, 
Maud, you’ll be able to keep the mother above water now. 
That’s rather a mercy anyway. ” 


The Great Burden 


495 


He almost forced her into the channel of his own cheery 
speculations with the reflection that if it wasn’t decent at 
least it was wholesome. 

I But when he looked back upon that talk with her later, 
he could not remember that she had made a single sug- 
I gestion of her own, or displayed the smallest spark of en- 
thusiasm in connection with the great fortune that had come 
to her. She was tired of course and sad. No doubt she 
would change her mind; but for the present she seemed to 
regard it only in the light of a new and heavy burden that 
had been laid upon her. Bunny could not understand it, 
but an uneasy wonder awoke and stirred in his heart. Was 
it because she was married to Jake that she felt it had come 
too late ? If so — if so — well, if so, poor old Jake ! 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE BLOW 

“ TT OME for Christmas. Motoring from Graydown. 

11 Three cheers, Bunny.” 

The ecstatic message stood on the mantelpiece in the old 
parlour above a roaring fire, and Jake stood in front of it, 
grimly patient, while the old grandfather clock ticked 
monotonously in the corner. 

It was Christmas Eve, still and frosty. The glass door 
into the garden was wide open so that he could hear the 
first hoot of a motor, and he was listening for it with a lynx- 
like intensity, a concentration that had in it something al- 
most terrible. It was nearly a fortnight since he had left 
her, and all his veins were on fire at the thought of having 
her again. He yearned for her with a fierce hunger that 
tore at the very soul of him, a hunger that he knew he must 
suppress, crush down out of sight, ere he met her. 

Because in her desolation she had turned to him for com- 
fort, he must not take it for granted that she needed him still. 
She had had time to recover, time possibly to be amazed, 
to be shocked, at her own yielding. He dreaded to see that 
instinctive recoil from him w’hich he had learned to know 
so cruelly well in the summer that was dead. Those words 
of hers — “I can’t pretend to love you. You see — I 
don’t,” — still haunted him. And he remembered how once 
in bitterness of soul she had^^told him that_she hated 
him. 


*496 


The Blow 


497 


He clenched his hands over the memory, cursing himself 
for the passion that even now leaped so fiercely within him. 
She had changed towards him since those days ; that he knew. 
But even though she turned to him she was half afraid of him 
still, and he dared not show her his heart. He must be calm 
and temperate, taking only what she offered, lest he should 
drive her away again. It might be she would never offer 
very much. Possibly it did not lie in her power. She had 
given her whole love to another man, and it had been 
crushed into the mud. It might be that it still lived there 
in quivering shame, a thing to be hidden if it could not be 
utterly destroyed. He could not tell. But he did not feel that 
his chance of winning to the heart of her was very great. 
It might be that when she came to realize the practically 
boundless power with which this great fortune endowed her, 
it would vanish altogether. True, he might put up a fight for 
his rights. He might insist upon his ownership. But — had 
he not already done that ? And what had it brought him ? 
Nothing but emptiness. The desire of the flesh was nothing 
to the aching longing of the spirit, and that could never be 
satisfied by such means. And she did not so much as know 
that it existed! 

He had dreamed once that a child might draw them to- 
gether. But now — but now — a curiously wistful smile 
drew his mouth. Poor girl I She wanted a child to comfort 
her desolation. But if she had her wish, he knew that she 
would never turn to him again for comfort. ^His last chance 
would be gone. 

Someone knocked at the open door that led into the gar- 
den. He turned sharply and saw Sam Vickers’ good- 
humoured ccJUntenance looking up at him. 

“Post just in, sir,” he remarked. “I was cornin’ 
round so brought your letter along.” 

' ‘ Oh , thanks I Come in ! ” 

Jake remained before the fire, and after an instant’s hesi- 


32 


498 


The Hundredth Chance 


tation Sam mounted the steps and entered. He was carry- 
ing a huge bunch of mistletoe in one hand. 

“Thought you’d like a bit, sir,” he said, with a 
cheery smile. “You haven’t got any decorations, I 
see.” 

“Thanks!” Jake said again. “I don’t know where 
you’ll fix it.” 

“Over the front door, sir, if you ask me,” said Sam 
promptly. 

“Oh, no, not there, Sam! It’s a bit too public. Over 
this door if you like.” Jake smiled a little and began to 
open his letter. 

“All right, sir. I’ll get a nail,” said Sam. 

He departed, and Jake, with a face grown stern, pro- 
ceeded to read his letter. 

When Sam returned, the letter had disappeared, and 
Jake was grinding at the fire with the poker with his 
head down and a deep red flush on his face. Sam noticed 
nothing. He was too much engrossed with the matter in 
hand. 

Mounted on a wooden chair and whistling softly he 
applied himself to the task of hanging the mistletoe at the 
most inviting angle. 

“ Like a bit for your cap, sir ? ” he enquired, with an im- 
pudent grin, when he had finished. 

Jake made no reply. 

Sam threw him a glance, and found that he had 
turned and was standing with his back to the fire, gazing 
out before him with eyes that shone like two pieces of 
red quartz. 

Sam was momentarily disconcerted. “ No oJence meant, 
sir,” he said, picking up his own cap, and hastening some- 
what clumsily to conceal the decoration it bore. 

Jake’s eyes came to him, regarded him for a moment 
fiercely without seeing him; ’then abruptly softened and 


The Blow 


499 

took him in. “Sam,” he said, “I trust you, and I’m go- 
ing to tell you something. Shut that door!’* 

Sam obeyed. He looked straight at Jake with sunny, 
honest eyes. “Hadn’t you better think it over first, sir?’* 
he suggested. 

“No.” Jake held out his hand suddenly. “I trust you,” 
he repeated, a dogged note in his voice. 

Sam’s hand gripped his like a vice. “Right you are, 
sir,” he said cheerily. 

Jake went on, as if impelled. “You remember what hap- 
pened in the summer at the Graydown Meeting when I 
thrashed young Stevens?” 

“Quite well, sir.” Sam’s reply came brisk and smart. 
He held himself like a soldier on parade. 

“You know why I thrashed him?” Jake proceeded. 

“Yes, sir. Thrashed him and kicked him out, sir. I 
was never more pleased in my life,” said Sam. 

“He’s been employed at the Castle stables ever since,” 
Jake said very bitterly. “I was a fool! a damn’ fool — not 
to expose him. But Lord Saltash knew that he pulled the 
Albatross. I told him so. He now says that he has proof 
that I aided and abetted — proof enough to get me v/arned 
off the Turf.” 

“Proof be damned, sir!” said Sam warmly. “That 
ain’t a good enough story for anyone with a head on his 
shoulders to swallow.” 

“No, Sam. You’re right. And Lord Saltash knows it. 
I can’t go to him and demand to see his proof because he’s 
on the other side of the world. But there ’s no scotching a 
lie of that sort. It’ll have spread like the plague long be- 
fore he gets back. And meantime he has decided that horse- 
racing and breeding are no longer his fancy, and he is going 
to sell the Stud — and me along with it.” 

Jake’s mouth took a bitter, downward cuiVe with the 
last words. 


500 


The Hundredth Chance 


Sam’s jaw dropped. Going to sell the Stud, sir?” 

Jake nodded. “Yes, before the Spring meetings. You’ll 
be all right, Sam. Anyone would be glad to get you. The 
Stewards know you all right.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of that, sir. I was thinking of 
you.” Sam’s blue eyes were gravely troubled. “You’ve 
got a wife, sir.” 

“My wife inherits her uncle’s money. She is not depend- 
ent upon me — fortunately for her.” Jake was speaking 
through set teeth. “I knew it was coming,” he added. 
“I’ve known it for some weeks.’' His eyes suddenly glit- 
tered afresh. “It ain’t a knock-out blow, Sam,” he said. 
“Don’t you make any mistake as to that!” 

Sam’s eyes sparkled in response. “It’s you that’s the 
knock-out, sir,” he said, with eager partisanship. “He 
hits below the belt, but he won’t down you that way. 
You’re better known than I am. And no one will believe as 
you’re not straight. If I was to hear any chap say a single 
word against you, why, I’d crack his skull for him. I would 
that — ^if it was Saltash himself!” 

Jake uttered a brief laugh. “No. You steer clear of 
Saltash! He’s one too many for honest men.” 

“He’s a dirty swab!” said Sam, and spat into the fire 
with fervour. “He ain’t fit to employ anyone except Dick 
Stevens and the likes of him. I often wondered who squared 
Dick that time, but it wouldn’t surprise me now if — ” He 
paused, looking at Jake interrogatively. 

But the latter’s face had changed, changed magically, 
as though some transforming hand had touched it, wiping 
all the bitterness away. 

He looked at Sam with a dawning smile in his eyes. 
“Good night, my lad!” he said. “I must go.” 

He went to the door with the words and opened it. There 
came the sound of a motor-horn without, the gay whoop of a 
boyish voice. Jake’s spurs went jingling down the passage. 


The Blow 


501 


And Sam turned to leave by the garden-door by which he 
had entered. He crammed his cap down over his eyes as 
he did so. ‘‘Poor old boss!” he Said. “Poor — old — 
boss!” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE DEED OF GIFT 

isn’t it good to be home again?” said Bunny. 

‘‘Isn’t it just good?” 

They sat before the blazing fire in the parlour after a late 
supper, drinking Mrs. Lovelace’s rhubarb wine and enjoy- 
ing the glow. 

Maud’s cheeks were fiushed and her eyes very bright. 
She did not look at her husband very often, and there was 
that about her manner that seemed to suggest that she was 
striving against considerable odds to appear at her ease. 

“How are the animals, Jake?” she asked. ‘‘How is 
The Hundredth Chance?” 

Jake on the other side of the fire was lying back in his 
chair with a cigarette between his lips. His gaitered legs 
were stretched out before him, and eyes fixed downwards 
as if he were half-asleep. He did not stir from this attitude 
as he made reply. 

‘‘They’re all going strong. You must see them for your- 
self in the morning.” 

His words did not seem to invite any further development 
of the subject. Perhaps he really was sleepy. Maud bent 
to fondle Chops who lay on the hearth at her feet, and asked 
no more. 

But Bunny at once plunged into the silence. He had 
not permitted any silences during supper, having plainly 
determined that the evening should not drag. He also 

502 


The Deed of Gift 


503 


was a little fevered in his animation, a fact which made 
Jake’s absolute calmness of demeanour all the more marked. 
He had been getting quieter and quieter ever since the re- 
moval of the supper things. 

Bunny fought against this quietness, talking with a nerv- 
ous excitement that elicited only occasional low replies 
from Maud and none at all from Jake. 

But it was Jake who finally at the striking of the clock 
broke in upon his insistent chatter. *‘Time you went to 
bed, my son. Say good night and go!” 

A quick word sprang at once to Bunny’s lips, but Jake’s 
hand abruptly gripped his knee hard and he swallowed it 
unspoken. He got up with a somewhat wry smile. 

“Yes, all right. I’ll go. But I don’t generally clear out 
before eleven, do I, Maud?” 

“You do in my house, whatever you do in Maud’s,” 
said Jake imperturbably. “Good night, my son! pleasant 
dreams to you!” 

He looked up at Bunny with a sudden, kindly smile, and 
Bunny bent impulsively to him. 

“Say, Jake, come and see me presently, when — when you 
come up yourself!” 

The request was proffered in an undertone with unmis- 
takable nervousness. Jake looked him straight in the 
eyes. 

“All right,” he said. 

The door closed upon Bunny, and there fell a silence. 

Maud sat very still, her hands clasped in her lap. But 
there was no repose in her attitude, only a dumb tension 
that seemed to indicate suspense. 

Jake leaned forward slowly, at length, took the cigarette 
from his mouth and dropped it into the heart of the fire. 
Then, without looking at her, he spoke. 

“What’s the matter with the little chap?” 

She looked across at him quickly, from beneath eyelids 


504 


The Hundredth Chance 


that slightly fluttered. Is there anything the matter with 
him? I didn’t notice.” 

“He was nearly crying when he said good night, any- 
way,” said Jake. 

“ Oh, was he ! Perhaps he thought — perhaps he thought 
— you were vexed with him,” murmured Maud. 

“Why should he think that?” Jake’s eyes, piercingly 
bright, suddenly met hers. 

She winced involuntarily, as one might wince from the 
glare of a searchlight. Then, with a visible effort, she met 
them. “Jake,” she said, “I — want to talk to you.” 

Jake’s eyes fell away from her. They went with a sombre 
directness to the Are and became fixed. “About your 
affairs, my girl?” he said. 

She hesitated momentarily; then: “Our affairs, Jake,” 
she said, her voice very low. 

He jerked his head as if to indicate attention, but he said 
nothing further. It remained for her to proceed, and she 
did so, slowly, as if carefully weighing each word. 

“You have left me a free hand in the settling of Uncle 
Edward’s affairs, and Mr. Craven is a very clever business 
man. I know Uncle Edward trusted him implicitly. But 
I should like you to know everything that has been done — 
that is, if you care to know. ” She paused a moment. “You 
do care, don’t you, Jake?” she said. 

“I care for your welfare, my girl,” he made answer. 
“Not being your trustee, it’s not essential that I should 
be told every detail.” 

“I wish you were a trustee,” she said. 

He bent his head. “ Thanks. But I don’t know that I am 
especially well suited to be. It’s better for you, I reckon, 
to have — a free hand. And it’s a mighty lot better that you 
should have a man of education to attend to your business 
affairs. ” 

“Jake!” There was quick pain in her voice, pain that 


The Deed of Gift 


505 


he could not fail to note. She leaned forward, stretching 
a hand to him across the hearth. *‘Jake!” she said again 
very earnestly. ' ‘ Do you think that — that I shall ever for- 
get — that I owe you — everything?” 

He took her hand, but with a curious doggedness he kept 
his eyes averted. “I guess we’re quits,” he said. “You 
don’t owe me anything. I took my payment for all I ever 
gave you.” 

There was no bitterness in his voice, no emotion of any 
sort. The clasp of his fingers was no more than kind. His 
mouth looked stubborn. 

But a strange sort of stubbornness seemed to have en- 
tered into Maud also. She kept her hand in his. 

“I take — another view, ” she said. “I don’t think any 
man — has ever done — more for a woman — than you have 
done — for me. ” Haltingly the words came, but she spoke 
them bravely. “It’s a big, big debt, Jake — immeasurably 
big, — a personal debt that can never be repaid. I feel — 
contemptible — whenever I think of it.” Her voice 
shook. 

Jake’s fingers closed upon hers with a quiet strength. 
“You’ve no call to feel like that, ” he said. 

Her hand clung to his suddenly, desperately. “You — 
believe in me, Jake?” she whispered. 

His face did not vary. “I guess I’ve proved that,” he 
said very steadily. 

She uttered a sharp, catching sigh. “Yes — yes! That 
is another debt. But till — till that night you came to me 
at Uncle Edward’s — I was never — quite — sure. ” 

“ Why weren’t you sure ? ” He put the question abruptly, 
with an insistence that demanded an instant reply. But 
still he did not look at her. His eyes gazed ever straight in- 
to the fire. 

Tremulously she answered him. “I met Charlie — Lord 
Saltash — the morning after — down at ‘The Anchor.’ He 


The Hundredth Chance 


506 

said — he said — you wouldn’t be — such a fool. That was 
why I went away.” 

“ Damn him!” The words burst from Jake with terrific 
violence. He sprang to his feet as a man goaded beyond 
all bearing. “Curse him!” he said, his face gone white 
with passion. “May his soul rot in ” 

“Jake!” The name was a cry, breaking through the 
fierce rush of his fury. Maud was on her feet also. She 
held him by the shoulders, in a vital, quivering hold. “You 
are not to say it ! ” she said and her face was close to his, 
compelling him to silence. “You are not to curse him ! A 
curse comes back — comes back!” 

She put one hand on his mouth, for he seemed on the verge 
of breaking forth afresh. She looked him full in the eyes. 

“You’re not to, Jake!” she said. “ I won’t have it. You 
who have been — so splendidly generous — can afford to 
leave a beaten enemy alone. Ah, — Jake!” 

For his arms were round her, gripping her. The naked 
soul of the man was looking into hers. With a supreme 
impulse, she took her hand away and gave her lips to his, 
surrendered herself wholly to the fiery passion that had 
suddenly blazed forth upon her. 

But in a moment his arms were loosened. He went back 
against the mantelpiece as though he had been struck a blow 
between the eyes. He stood motionless, his mouth work- 
ing but uttering no word. 

She stood before him, pale to the lips but not without a 
certain strength. She had offered, and he had not taken. 
But yet her doubts were set at rest. Perhaps for the first 
time in her life she faced him wholly unafraid. 

“So — we will leave him out of it,” she said, breathing 
fast. “He has — ceased to count.” 

Jake moved, pulled himself together. “You must for- 
give me,” he said. “Maybe you’d be wise to leave me. 
I shall be — saner — presently.” 


The Deed of Gift 


507 


She put one hand against his breast. “No, Jake, no. 
You’re going to be sane now. Sit down again! Let us 
finish our talk!” 

He looked at her with the red light still smouldering in 
his eyes. After a moment he took her wrist with a grip in 
which passion lingered. “I’m trying to act fair by you, 
my girl, ” he said, with a faint smile that somehow touched 
her heart. “It seems to me you’ve never had a chance — 
not a real chance — all your life. What with Bunny — and 
me — and — and — Saltash” — his mouth twisted over the 
name — “you’ve been handicapped right and left. That’s 
why I’ve sworn to myself that I won’t interfere with you 
any more. You shall have a free hand — a free hand. This 
money of yours makes it possible. Play with it, spend it, 
enjoy yourself! Be happy, my girl, be happy! I won’t 
step in to prevent it.” 

Maud’s eyes were suddenly full of tears, yet she laughed. 
“You’ve sworn to give me a free hand?” she said. 

He nodded. “Sure.” 

Her other hand clasped his quickly, pleadingly. “Then, 
Jake, you won’t be angry if — if — I decide to do something 
that — that you may not — altogether — like?” 

“It’s your money,” said Jake doggedly. 

“Yes — yes. And — I have your permission — your un- 
reserved consent — to — ^to do what I like with it?” 

Her voice quivered. She was clinging to him almost un- 
consciously. 

He stood steadily facing her. He had forced his passion 
down again, but there was tension about him still. “My 
girl,” he said, “if you want to turn it all into paper and 
make a bonfire of it, — I shan’t object.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to do that, ” she said, and again she 
faintly laughed though in her laughter there was a sound of 
tears. “I felt just at first — just at first — that I didn’t 
want it. But I’ve got over that, though I’ve come to the 


5o8 


The Hundredth Chance 


conclusion that there’s no fun to be got out of money unless 
there’s someone to enjoy it with you. And so — and so — ” 
she became a little breathless and her hands pressed his in 
agitation — “I’m making over half of it to you — by deed of 
gift. Please, Jake, please — you don’t mind?” 

“What?” said Jake. He raised his tawny brows, star- 
ing at her for an instant in sheer, overwhelming amazement; 
then they came down uncompromisingly in a thick straight 
line above his eyes. He put her hands away from him gently 
but with the utmost decision. He turned himself from 
her and bent to pick up the poker. Then, as he stirred the 
fire, with his face in the glow he spoke briefly, almost 
roughly. “I don’t know if you’re joking or in earnest; but 
that’s the one thing that I can’t — and won’t — consent to. 
So I reckon that’s all there is to it.” 

“Jake!” There was consternation in her voice, bitter 
disappointment, keen pain. “Oh, Jake,” she said, “you 
can’t mean to refuse — like that!” 

“ How did you expect me to refuse?” said Jake, without 
turning. 

She answered him chokingly. “Not as if — as if — I had 
insulted you.” 

He dropped the poker and straightened himself. “ May- 
be you didn’t intend any insult, ” he said. “ But you don’t 
credit me with an over-allowance of self-respect, do you?” 

She did not answer him, for she could not. She stood 
fighting for self-control, striving to collect her scattered 
forces, but so overwhelmingly distressed that she could not 
attempt to withstand him. 

He turned round to her slowly at length. “ Say, Maud, ” 
he said, something of the old kindliness in his tone, “we 
won’t talk any more about it. Guess it’s an impossible 
subject. You’ll know me better next time. ” 

She struggled for utterance with lips that trembled pite- 
ously ; her eyes were brimming with tears. Finally, with 


The Deed of Gift 


509 


a small, hopeless gesture, she turned away, moved across 
the room blindly, found the door and fumblingly opened it. 

'‘Good night!” she whispered then in a voice that was 
scarcely audible, and in another moment the door closed 
without sound behind her. 

She was gone. Jake’s mouth set itself in a hard, straight ^ 
line. He squared his shoulders with the instinctive move- 
ment of a man facing odds. He began to feel with brutal 
deliberation for his cigarette-case. 

The rasp of his match made a short, indignant sound in 
the quiet room. It was like a sharp protest. The smell 
of his tobacco began to dominate the atmosphere. He 
smoked furiously. 

Suddenly there came a check. The cigarette had ceased 
to draw. He ground his teeth on it, turned, and spat it into 
the flames. It hissed and vanished. 

Then Jake abruptly lifted his clenched hands above his 
head and swore a frightful oath that comprehended him- 
self, the world, and all things in it, in one vast anathema. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE IMPOSSIBLE 


AY, Jake, are you going to spend the night downstairs !’* 



O Bunny’s thin, eager face peered round the door with 
the words. He slipped into the room clad in pyjamas, his 
hair all ruffled on his forehead. 

J ake was sitting before a burnt-out fire. He looked round 
at Bunny with heavy eyes. 

“Were you asleep ? ’ ’ said Bunny. 

“No.” He got up stiffly. “Just — thinking. What have 
you come down for?” 

Bunny glanced at the clock. “Why, you said you’d 
come and see me in bed, and it’s long past midnight. I’ve 
been lying awake for ages.” He pressed close to Jake, re- 
proach mingling with a touch of apprehension in his eyes. 
“Fact is, — I — wanted to tell you something. But I’ve got 
cold now. I don’t know that I shall, after all.” 

Jake put a hand on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t, my son, ” 
he said. “I should cut back to bed if I were you. I give 
you a free pardon, whatever it is. There! Good night!” 

But Bunny refused to be dismissed thus perfunctorily. 
“You treat me like a child, Jake,” he grumbled. “It’s 
not fair. I’d sooner be pitched into than that.” 

J ake smiled faintly. * ‘Well, what’s the matter ? ” he said. 

Bunny’s eyes gleamed a little. “It’s just this. I ex- 
pect you’ll be savage, but you’ve got to know. Maud 
knows all about the Stud and everything. She was bound to 


The Impossible 51 1 

know sooner or later, so I don’t see that it greatly matters. 
But I’d no right to tell her. And I did.” 

He ended on a note of defiance. His penitence had plainly 
not survived his long-drawn-out suspense. 

But Jake heard him without any sign of displeasure. 
“Betrayed my confidence, eh?” he said. “Well, I reckon 
that’s a matter for your conscience, not mine. ” 

Bunny bit his lip. “You ought to have told her your- 
self, Jake, ” he said. 

J ake nodded. He seemed to be past all feeling that night. 
“I know that. But she had plenty to think of without 
worrying herself about my affairs. Anyway she knows 
now. ” 

“Yes. Knows you’re thinking of going to America, 
Jake.” Eagerly Bunny broke in. “And she’s jolly sick 
about it, I can tell you. She doesn’t want you to go. ” 

“Oh, doesn’t she?” said Jake. 

Bunny seized his arm and shook it. “Jake, surely you 
won’t go! She’s rich enough to keep us all. She wants 
to share everything with you.” 

* ‘ Oh, yes. ’ ’ J ake’s voice was dead level. His eyes looked 
at Bunny, but they saw beyond him. “I know all about 
that. I know — ^just what she wants. She wants a watch- 
dog, one that’ll fetch and carry and accept all benefits with 
humility. She’s lonely now; but she won’t be lonely long. 
She’ll have a crowd round her — a set of fashionable, gibber- 
ing monkeys, who will sneer at the watch-dog, the meek and 
patient hanger-on, the adjunct at every party, who lives on 
his_mistress’s smile and doesn’t object to her kick. That’s 
what she wants. And that, my son, is the one thing she’s 
not going to get. ” 

“But what on earth do you want, Jake?” burst from 
Bunny, half-startled, half-exasperated. “You needn’t be 
that. You never could be that. Her idea was to make you 
independent. ” 


512 


The Hundredth Chance 


“ Oh yes, I know. ’’ Jake’s mouth twisted a little. “She 
is mighty generous. She figured to hand over half her for- 
tune by deed of gift.” 

“And you wouldn’t have it?” Bunny almost gasped. 

“I wouldn’t touch it,” Jake said, with a sound that was 
oddly like a suppressed laugh in his throat. 

“But why in wonder not?” Bunny stared at him as if 
he thought he had gone suddenly mad. “We’ve taken 
oceans of things from you. ” 

“That’s different,” said Jake. 

“How different? Make me understand, Jake! I’ve a 
right to understand.” Bunny’s voice was imperious. 

Jake looked at him. There was actually a smile in his 
eyes, but it was a smile of self-ridicule. “You asked me 
just now what I wanted,” he said. “I’ll tell you. I 
want a woman who loves me well enough to chuck up every- 
thing — everything, mind you — and follow me barefoot to 
the other end of the world. ” He broke into a laugh that . 
seemed to hurt him. “And that,” he said, “is the one 
thing I’m not going to get. Now do you understand?” 

“Not quite, Jake. Not quite.” Bunny spoke almost 
diffidently. He looked back at Jake with awe in his eyes. 
“You think she doesn’t love you well enough. Is that it?” 

Jake nodded, still with that smile of self -mockery about 
his mouth. “You’ve hit it, my son,” he said. “We’re 
not a pair, that’s the trouble. She means to be kind, but 
I’d sooner go empty than be fed on husks. I didn’t offer 
either of you that. It was the real thing I gave you. But 
she — she hasn’t the real thing to offer. And so — I’ll do 
without. ” 

He turned squarely to put out the waning lamp as though 
the discussion were ended, but Bunny stayed him with a 
nervous hand. 

“Jake, suppose you’re wrong, old boy? Suppose she 
does care — care badly?” His voice quivered with earnest- 


The Impossible 513 

ness. “Women are queer fishes, you know, Jake. Sup- 
pose you’ve made a mistake?” 

^ “Where’s the use of supposing the impossible?” asked 
I Jake sombrely. Yet he paused, his hand rubbing the boy’s 
rough head caressingly. 

“Ah, but just for a moment,” Bunny insisted. “If 
she loved you, Jake, you wouldn’t refuse then to — to do 
what she wanted?” 

“If she loved me,” Jake said, and stopped suddenly. 
He moved abruptly to the lamp and extinguished it. Then 
I in the dim light that filtered through the blinds from a full 
I moon of frosty radiance, he spoke, deeply, slowly, solemnly. 
“If she loved me, I would accept anything under the sun 
from her. Everything she had would be mine. Every- 
thing of mine would be hers. And — before God — I would 
' make her happy — if she loved me.” He drew a great breath 
that seemed to burst from the very heart of him. Then in 
a moment he turned aside. .“But that’s the impossible, 
Bunny,” he said. “ And now good night 1 ” 

They went upstairs together, and parted in the passage. 
Bunny seemed too awed for speech. Only he hugged Jake 
hard for a moment before he went to his own room. 

Jake passed on to his. Utter silence reigned there. He 
lighted a candle, and went softly to the door that led into 
his wife’s room. It was shut. Softly he turned the handle, 
pressed a little; softly he turned it back. The door was 
locked. 

Then he threw off his clothes, blew out the candle, and 
lay down aloije. 

And all through the night he was listening to words ut- 
tered over and over above his^head, like evil spirits whisper- 
ing together. 

“ I can’t pretend to love you. You see — I don’t. ” 

He realized now that she had been right. It was better 
not to pretend! It was better not to pretend! 


33 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE FIRST OF THE VULTURES 


HRISTMAS Day was a farce in which Jake, Maud, 



and Bunny each played their appointed parts with 
somewhat dreary zest. The brother and sister had drawn 
much closer to each other during the past fortnight in which 
they had been thrown together. The old quick understand- 
ing, the old comradeship, had revived between them, and 
on Bunny’s part there was added to it a certain protect- 
iveness that created a new and even more intimate element 
in their intercourse. In a fashion their positions were re- 
versed. Maud leaned upon him as he once had leaned upon 
her, and his sturdy support comforted her sick heart. 

As for Jake, he went his way among his animals, spending 
his time almost exclusively with them during that day and 
the days that followed. He was very quiet, invariably 
kind, but there was about him a suggestion of strain be- 
hind his composure, a hint of something terrible, as of a man 
hiding a mortal wound. He never talked about the animals 
now, and he did not welcome even Bunny in the stables. 

“He's fretting his heart out over them,” the boy said, 
and Maud knew that he spoke the truth. The thought of 
the coming parting with them hurt him to the soul. 

£Sam Vickers knew this also, and watched him in mute sym- 
pathy. He would have given all he had to avert this bitter 
blow from the boss, but he could only stand and look on. 

It was on the last day in the year, a biting, sunless day, 


I 

I 


The First of the Vultures 


515 


that he sought him late in the afternoon with a visiting card 
in his hand. 

Jake was leaning on the half -door of the loose-box in 
which was lodged the black colt of his dreams — The 
Hundredth Chance^ The animal’s head was nuzzled against 
I his shoulder. There seemed to be a perfect understanding 
f between them. 

But at sight of Sam the colt started back. He was sus- 
picious of all the world but Jake. 

Jake looked round, his face grey in the failing light. 

I “Hullo! What is it?” 

Sam came forward and gave him the card. ‘ ‘ Mrs. Bolton 
was out, sir, and he asked for you; said he’d wait in the 
yard, sir.” 

Jake bent his brows over the card. It bore a name that 
i seemed vaguely familiar to him though in what connection 
! he could not for the moment recall : — Monterey W. Raff ord. 
Jake looked up. “ He’s no friend of mine. Do you know 
what he wants?” 

“Said he was a friend of Dr. Capper, sir,” said Sam. 

“Oh, that American chap! I remember now. All 
right, Sam. I’ll see him. ” Jake gently pushed back the colt’s 
L enquiring nose, closed the upper half of the^oor, and strode 
ofiE down the stone passage that led to the yard. 

The visitor was standing under a lamp, a slim young man 
with a dark, keen face that broke into a smile at Jake’s ap- 
proach. He moved to meet him, speaking in a voice that 
betrayed his nationality at the first word. 

“I am very pleased to meet you again, sir, though no 
doubt you have forgotten me.” 

They shook hands. Jake was looking at him with steady 
eyes. “No,” he said, in his slow way, “I think you are 
the sort of man that doesn’t get forgotten very easily.” 

Raff ord laughed. He had an easy, well-bred laugh. 
“Capper doesn’t believe in me,” he said. “He declares 


5i6 


The Hundredth Chance 


I’ll never get there. P’raps he’s right. It doesn’t concern 
me very much either way. Anyway, I’ve given up sending 
sick people to sleep for the present. I’m out on my own 
this journey. How is your young brother-in-law? Cure 
complete?” 

“Absolutely. ” Jake was still looking at him hard. “If 
it’s not a rude question,” he said deliberately, “is that 
what brought you?” 

The American met his look with a flicker of the eyes that 
betrayed a hint of wariness. “It’s not a rude question, Mr. 
Bolton, ” he said. “Andjtis not what brought me. I’m 
after art treasures at the present moment. To be parti- 
cular, I’m after Saltash’s wonder in marble. The Fallen 
Woman. We did a deal over that marble, he and I, in 
New York the other day. He was showing me a card-trick, 
and — I — spotted — the knave.” 

Rafford suddenly drawled, and Jake’s eyes grew brighter. 

“ Come inside !” he said. 

But Rafford shook his head. “ No, not right away if you 
don’t mind. There’s a little light left. Will you show me 
the animals?” 

Jake’s right hand clenched on his whip. “Have you done 
a deal over them too?” he said, sinking his voice very 
low. 

“No. But I’ve got an idea,” Rafford said. “I’ll tell 
you what it is presently. You’ve got some valuable stock 
here, I’m told. Say, Mr. Bolton, you don’t object to show- 
ing me round?” 

His smile was disarming. Jake swung round on his heel 
without another word. 

They went from stable to stable, inspecting one after an- 
other of Jake’s treasures, Jake himself reciting the record 
of each. He began the tour almost in silence, speaking only 
words of bare necessity, but in some magnetic fashion Raf- 
ford broke through hisreserve. His quiet enthusiasm reached 


The First of the Vultures 


517 


and fired Jake. Gradually the glow kindled, the bitterness 
passed from him, he became himself in his own element, he 
opened his heart to the stranger because it seemed that he 
understood. 

It was a long inspection, and darkness was upon them be- 
fore it ended. They came last of all to the home of The Hun- 
dredth Chance, and here with his favourite’s nose tucked 
confidingly into his arm Jake told his hopes, his dreams. 

Rafford listened with a sympathy that was scarcely per- 
ceptible in his speech yet of which Jake was very strongly 
aware, or he had not so expanded. Later he marvelled 
himself at his own candour, but at the time it seemed wholly 
natural, even inevitable. By that mysterious force which 
makes men know each other as comrades even from afar, 
he recognized in Rafford the one quality that his soul de- 
manded. Circumstance had flung them together for an 
hour, circumstance would part them again, but for that hour 
the bond of sympathy between them was complete. 

In the end he remembered again the coming loss, the 
crushing failure of all his plans, and the bitterness came down 
upon him afresh, an overwhelming burden forcing him down. 
He fondled the colt, and with a gentle hand closed the door 
upon him. '‘Yes,” he said heavily, “given fair treat- 
ment he’ll turn out a winner, but I shan’t be here to see 
it.” 

“What’s come to Saltash?” Rafford questioned. “He 
seems ready to throw up everything.” 

“Yes, that’s him,” Jake said. “But then he hasn’t 
had the working up of the Stud as I have. It’s nothing to 
him to part with the animals. They were no more than a 
pastime.” 

“And not always a creditable pastime at that?” sug- 
gested Rafford. “I guess you’re too straight for him, Mr. 
Bolton. He’s a crooked devil — but a curiously likable 
one.” He smiled as if at some reminiscence. “Well, 


5i8 


The Hundredth Chance 


what’s your opinion? Do you think he could be persuaded 
to sell this show privately if he got a good offer?” 

Jake’s reserve came down upon him like a mask. “I 
can’t say. You’d better go to his agent, Bishop. ” 

Rafford was still faintly smiling. “I’ve just come from 
him. He practically sent me to you. I’ve just paid him 
Saltash’s price for the statue. She will be on her way to 
America with me in a fortnight. But I’d like to bring off 
this deal before we go. ” 

“It doesn’t rest with me,” Jake said, doggedness in 
every line. 

“ No, I know. But I’d like to feel that I’ve got you behind 
me. My patron would like to know that. ” 

“Who is your patron?” Jake asked. 

“His name is Ruse. You mayn’t have heard of him, but 
he’s quite well known in a good many circles — specially on 
our side. He has taken a fancy for horse-racing and he will 
probably drop a lot of money over it before he’s done; that 
is, unless he’s lucky enough to retain you for his trainer. ” 

A hot gleam suddenly kindled in Jake’s eyes, and as sud- 
denly died. “I reckon that won’t be possible,” he said. 
“Lord Salt ash will see to that.” 

“Saltash may not be able to prevent it,” Rafford ob- 
served quietly. “Ruse will want a trainer, and when I 
tell him how your heart’s in the job, it wouldn’t surprise 
me if he persuaded you to keep it on. You wouldn’t be 
very hard to persuade, I take it?” 

Jake hesitated momentarily, then passed the question by. 
“Is your friend in England?” he asked. 

“He will be in England very soon after the deal is com- 
pleted — if it is completed,” Rafford answered. 

* ‘ Won’t he want to see the Stud first ? ” J ake’s voice was 
quietly business-like. He seemed to have put all personal 
considerations away. 

. “I doubt it,” Rafford said. “The value of the Stud is 


The First of the Vultures 


519 


well-known, and — to let you into a secret — he is mad keen 
on securing it. You won’t tell Saltash that of course, or 
Bishop, who, I understand, is empowered to act on his be- 
half. But I think Saltash will get his price without much 
haggling. My patron is particularly anxious to prevent 
the Stud coming on the market. He is prepared to offer 
something better than a market price to make sure of it. ” 

“He must be a very remarkable man,” observed Jake. 

“He is, sir; a very remarkable man, a man who never 
misses his opportunities. And in consequence he is on the 
whole very seldom a loser. It would be a great mistake to 
let him slip through your fingers — a very great mistake.” 

Raff ord spoke with earnestness. His dark face was alight 
with eagerness. 

Jake looked at him, faintly .smiling. “You have an in- 
terest at stake?” he suggested. 

“Only the interest that makes me want to push a thing 
to success. I have full powers though.” RafEord’s face 
reflected his smile. “When my patron got news of this 
thing, shall I tell you what he said to me? Just ‘Clinch!’ I 
shall go to Bishop to-morrow, and carry out those instruc- 
tions, if I can, to the letter.” 

“You won’t do it in a day, ” Jake said. “Maybe you’d 
like to put up at my place pending negotiations.” 

Rafford’s hand came out to him with impulsive friendli- 
ness. “No, sir. You’re more than kind, but I won’t do 
that. I’ve seen the animals and I’ve seen you. That’s 
enough. You and I mustn’t get too intimate over this deal. 
You know what Saltash is. When we’ve pulled it off. I’ll 
be delighted — if there’s still time.” He gripped Jake’s 
hand hard, looking him straight in the face. “You’ve given 
me a real happy hour, Mr. Bolton,” he said. “And I 
shan’t forget it. It was mighty generous of you, consider- 
ing you regarded me as the first of the vultures. Well, I 
hope I shall be the last. So long!” 


520 


The Hundredth Chance 


“So long!” Jake said. “I hope you will.” 

He accompanied the young man to the gate, and 
watched him go. 

Then squarely he came back again, walked straight up 
the middle of the yard, looking neither to right nor left, 
went into his own house, and shut the door. 

Late that night when Maud rose to go upstairs, he came 
out of what had apparently been a heavy doze before the 
fire and spoke for the first time of his own affairs. 

“ Bunny told you some time ago that the Stud was to be 
sold, I believe?” he said. 

Maud stood still on the hearth, looking down at him. The 
question evidently startled her, for her breath came sud- 
denly faster. “Yes, he told me,” she said. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” said Jake. And 
then he saw that his abruptness had agitated her and leaned 
forward to take her hand. 

She suffered him to take it, but she was trembling from 
head to foot. “I didn’t think — you wished me to know,” 
she said. 

He bent his head slightly so that only the shining copper 
of his hair met her look. “It wasn’t — that,” he said 
slowly. “At least not at first. Just at first I didn’t want 
to bother you. Afterwards, — ^well, I guess I’m an indepen- 
dent sort of cuss and I was afraid you’d want to finance me 
when you knew I was to be kicked out.” 

“I did want to, Jake,” she said quickly. 

He nodded. “I know. I was mighty ungracious over 
it. I’ve been sorry since. ” 

“Jake!” She stooped a little, a quick dawning of hope 
in her pale face; but he kept his head bent. 

“No,” he said. “The answer is still No. I don’t 
want to hurt your feelings any, but I can’t live on any one’s 
charity. If there’s anything under the sun that I can do to 
serve you. I’ll do it. But I can’t do the pet-dog business. 


The First of the Vultures 


521 


For one thing I’m not ornamental enough. And for an- 
other, it ain’t my nature. ” 

He paused a moment, but Maud made no attempt to 
speak. Only the hope had all died out of her face, and she 
looked unutterably tired. 

Jake went on. “Just when your uncle died, you were 
feeling extra lonely, and — ” his voice sank a little — “you 
turned to me for comfort. But I didn’t flatter myself that 
I had become permanently necessary to you. I knew you 
never intended me to think that. I saw it directly we met 
again. You fancied yourself under an obligation to me. 
You were willing — because of that — to give me anything I 
wanted. But it’s come to this. What I really want is not 
in your power to give, and I can’t accept less. For that 
reason, I’ve got to live in my own house, not in yours. I 
don’t want you to feel bound to live with me, I know my 
setting never was good enough for you either. You can 
come to me just sometimes, and I shall be honoured to re- 
ceive you. But I’d like you to know that you are abso- 
lutely free to come or go. I’m not insisting on my rights, 
just because I’ve learnt that it doesn’t make for happiness 
on either side. ” 

Again he paused, but still she did not speak. 

Quietly he resumed. “That brings me to what I set out 
to tell you about the Stud. There is a chance — I think it’s 
a good one — that it may be kept together after all. There 
is also a chance — a less promising one — that I may be re- 
tained as trainer. If I am offered the post, I shall accept 
it. If I am not offered the post, well, I shall have to start 
again at the beginning. I shall have to rough it. So if 
that happens, you will have to go your way and I mine.” 

He ceased to speak, and his hand relinquished hers. 

Maud stood up. She was no longer trembling, but she 
was very pale. 

“I hope you will get the post, ” she said, after a moment. 


522 


The Hundredth Chance 


“ You — I think you would feel it if you had to part with the 
horses. They mean — so much to you.'* 

“I belong to ’em," Jake said simply. 

She smiled a little with lips that quivered. **Then I 
hope you will have them always,’’ she said. “Good night 
— and thank you for being so — explicit. ’’ She looked at his 
bent head, stretched a hand above it almost as if she would 
touch it, then drew it swiftly back and turned to go. 

A few seconds later she was ascending the stairs, still 
piteously smiling, with the tears running down her face.-- 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE DUTIFUL WIFE 

*‘\\TELL, my dearie, this is the biggest treat I’ve had 

V V for I don’t know how long. Sit you down and tell 
me all your news! Is it true, what my Tom tells me, as 
you’ve come into a pot of money? Well, there now, I am 
pleased! Put your feet on the fender, my dear! There’s a 
cruel wind blowing to-day. We’ll have some hot buttered 
toast for tea.” 

*‘I hope you’re not busy, Mrs. Wright.” Maud clasped 
the round, dumpy form very closely for a minute. 

**Lor’ no, my dear; not a bit. It’s early closing to-day. 
Fancy your thinking of that now! And fancy your coming 
to see me of all people! Why, I feel just as if a princess 
had stepped out of a fairy-tale.” 

don’t feel a bit like a princess,” Maud said. 

She sat down before the cheery little fire in Mrs. Wright’s 
back parlour and stretched out her hands to the blaze. 

The old woman hovered over her tenderly. “You look 
like one, my dear,” she said. “I think it’s just wonder- 
ful that you should condescend to be friendly with the likes 
of me.” 

‘‘Oh, Mrs. Wright, don’t — please — put it like that!” 
Maud leaned quickly back, turning up a face of flushed pro- 
test. “I don’t like that aspect of myself at all, ” she said. 
“I don’t think I am that sort of person indeed.” 

“I always think of you as Jake’s princess, dear,” Mrs. 
523 


524 


The Hundredth Chance 


Wright maintained. “I don’t see why it should distress 
you. I like to think of you so.” 

Maud laughed a little. “I wish you wouldn’t. And I 
wish Jake wouldn’t either. Perhaps once I was foolish and 
proud, but really I have got over that now. I am very 
humble, nowadays.” 

“Are you happy, dearie? That’s the great thing, ” said 
Mrs. Wright. 

Maud stooped again over the fire. “ I’m — trying to be, ” 
she said. “I don’t succeed perhaps all the time. But — ” 
she stopped. ‘ ‘ Don’t let us talk about my affairs till I have 
heard all yours!” she said. “How is Tom? When is he 
going to be married?” 

It was the signal for Mrs. Wright to plunge into personal 
gossip, and she did so with zest. But she kept a motherly 
eye upon her visitor notwithstanding, missing no detail of 
her appearance and general demeanour. There was plenty 
to be said, Mrs. Wright was always voluble, but she was not 
a selfish talker. She did not monopolize the conversation, 
and she never lost sight of her listener. 

Maud’s sjrmpathy was quite unfeigned. She liked to hear 
about Mrs. Wright’s various interests, and there was a 
genial warmth in the atmosphere that did her good. 

“Let me come into the kitchen with you and help you 
make the toast!” she begged at length. 

And after a brief demur, Mrs. Wright consented. Tom 
was out and there would be no one to disturb them. She 
would not have dreamed of permitting Tom to sit down in 
the kitchen with Jake’s princess. 

So to the kitchen they went, and finding it cosier than the 
parlour, decided to remain there to partake of the meal they 
had prepared, Mrs. Wright, albeit sorely against her will, 
occupying the wooden armchair of state, while Maud sat 
close to her knees on the fender. 

“You’re looking very thin, dear,” Mrs. Wright checked 


The Dutiful Wife 


525 

her chatter to observe, as she put down her final cup 
of tea. 

'‘It’s my nature to be thin,” Maud said. 

Mrs. Wright permitted herself a more critical survey. 
“I wonder what Jake thinks,” she said. “I shouldn’t 
feel happy about you if I were Jake.” 

Maud smiled faintly into the fire and said nothing. 

Mrs. Wright’s plump hand stole down to her shoulder. 
“I hope as he’s being good to you, dearie, ” she murmured. 

Maud leaned back against her knee. “He is trying to 
be,” she said. “You know that the Stud has been sold?” 

“It really has?” said Mrs. Wright. 

“Yes, it really has. The^'animals were to have been sent 
to Tattersall’s, but a man we know — an American — came 
at the very beginning of the year and made an offer on be- 
half of a friend of his that Lord Saltash’s agent thought too 
good to refuse. He has gone back to America now, and no 
doubt his principal will make his appearance soon. The 
idea is to build new Stables nearer to Gray down. Jake 
is negotiating about some land there. It’s such a pretty 
part, and there will have to be a house for him too. We 
shall probably be allowed to stay on at the Burchester 
Stables till it is all ready. Jake is hoping that it may all 
be done in a year, I think,” she smiled again with a hint 
of wistfulness. “I think Jake is going to enjoy himself.” 

“And* you, dearie?” whispered Mrs. Wright, tenderly 
persistent. 

Maud reached up a hand to clasp hers. “I have been 
lost in the desert for a long, long time, dear Mrs. Wright,” 
she said. “ But I am just beginning to find myself. ” 

Mrs. Wright stooped impulsively and carried the soft 
hand to her lips. “May it please the dear Lord to guide 
you, dear!” she said. 

“He is guiding me,” Maud said with simplicity. “But 
I’ve some way to travel yet before I reach my goal. And — 


The Hundredth Chance 


526, 

it’s very sandy travelling sometimes, Mother Wright.” She 
lifted her face with its sweet quivering smile. “And there 
are stones too, sometimes,” she said. “But — I’d like you 
to know that I’ve passed the worst. I’ve left off yearning 
for — ^for — the mirage. It doesn’t draw me any more — at 
all. I’ve left it all behind me, — like an evil dream and I 
can never, never, never be deceived by it again.” 

“My darling!” murmured Mrs. Wright very tenderly. 
“My darling!” 

Maud suddenly clung to her closely. “I’m beginning 
to find out,” she whispered tremulously, “that the thing 
I took for a rank weed growing beside my path is the one 
flower I have always wanted in my garden. I’ve tried for 
ever so long to uproot it, but now — but now — I’m trying to 
make it grow. I want it — but this is a secret ! — more than 
anything else on earth.” 

Mrs. Wright’s own eyes were full of tears. “I am sure 
you will have it, darling,” she said. “I am sure — quite 
sure — your want will be satisfied. ” 

She kissed the quivering face on her bosom and fondled 
the soft dark hair. They remained so for a space not speak- 
ing; then very gently Maud withdrew herself. 

“Did I tell you that Bunny is allowed to play hockey 
this term? It is horribly dangerous — I went up to watch 
it last Saturday — but he enjoys it tremendously; and 
they say it will do him good. He is growing fast; getting 
quite a man.” 

“lam very pleased to hear it, ” Mrs. Wright said warmly. 
“ Dearie me, just to think of the poor little weakly thing 
he was a year ago! Do you remember that day I first 
looked in on you, and how you gave me them violets? 
I’ve never forgotten it. ” 

Maud flushed a little. “You were so good to me, and I 
had been so ungracious. I wonder you ever forgave me. ’* 

“What rubbish, dear! What rubbish!” softly inter- 


The Dutiful Wife 


527 


polated Mrs. Wright. “I loved you from the first moment 
I set eyes on you that night at Giles Sheppard’s. And that 
reminds me. How is your mother doing now?” 

“She is living in London,” Maud said. believe 
Giles Sheppard went to Canada. She doesn’t seem to 
trouble about him, but has settled down quite happily in 
a boarding-house in Bayswater. I invested some of Uncle 
Edward’s money in an annuity for her. It seemed the best 
plan. ” 

“I am so glad you have got that money, dear,” said 
Mrs. Wright simply. 

“Thank you,” Maud said. “But— you know— I 
could have been quite happy without it. At least I think 
I could. We should have had to emigrate. And I — ” 
she smiled momentarily, “I suppose I should have been a 
cow-puncher’s wife in earnest. ” 

“You wouldn’t have liked that,” said Mrs. Wright 
with conviction. 

“Shouldn’t I? I wonder. I am beginning to think that 
external circumstances haven’t much to do with happiness.” 
Maud spoke thoughtfully. “Still — ^now I am used to the 
idea — I am glad to have the money. Uncle Edward left 
all his affairs in such perfect order that they will probably 
be wound up very soon now. Mr. Craven, the solicitor, 
said it was one of the simplest matters he had ever had to 
deal with, which is all the better for me. He is in a position 
to raise almost any amount for me even now. ” Maud was 
smiling again, that faint, half-wistful smile that had become 
hers. “It will be useful when it comes to furnishing the 
new house, won’t it?” she said. 

“My dear, you will just love that,” said Mrs. Wright. 
“And what does Jake say to it all? Isn’t he pleased to 
know as you and little Sir Bernard are provided for as be- 
fits your rank and station?” 

Maud’s smile became a laugh. “Dear Mother Wright, 


528 


The Hundredth Chance 


you are incorrigible!” she declared. “No, Jake is not 
over and above pleased. I think he has a lurking fear that 
I want to take him away from his horses and make him lead 
a life of elegant idleness. He doesn’t guess how thankful 
I was to know that he would not have to give them up after 
all. For he loves his animals as he loves nothing else on 
earth.” 

“ Oh, tut, tut, dearie I ” remonstrated Mrs. Wright. “And 
it really is settledfor him to keep on in his present position?” 

“Practically settled. He says he must wait and see his 
boss before he regards it as a sure thing. Meantime, he is 
carrying out Mr. Rafford’s instructions as far as possible. 
He has gone over to Graydown to-day about the building- 
site'for the new stables. I hope he will secure it. It is on a 
southern slope. It would be splendid for the animals.” 

“Why, you are getting quite enthusiastic!” said Mrs. 
Wright, with a chuckle. 

“I believe I am,” Maud admitted. “I never thought 
so much of them till it seemed that we were going to lose 
them. I think it would almost have broken Jake’s heart. ” 

“He don’t keep his heart in the stables,” said Mrs. 
Wright wisely, “nor yet in the training-field. What, my 
dear, you’re not thinking of going yet? Why, it’s quite 
early!” 

“Yes, I ought to be going,” Maud said. “I like to be 
in first, to give him his tea and so on. He is much too polite 
to say so, but I fancy he likes it.” 

“Of course he likes it, dear. And I think he’s a very, 
very lucky man. ” Mrs. Wright spoke with great emphasis. 

Maud was on her feet. She looked down at her half- 
laughing. “Oh, do you? I wonder why.” 

“To have such a dutiful wife, dear,” said Mrs. Wright. 
“ I hope you’re not going to spoil him, now. It would be a 
pity to do that.” 

Maud uttered a funny little sigh. “Oh no, I shan’t 


The Dutiful Wife 


529 


spoil him. He is most careful not to take anything for 
granted. In fact, I sometimes wonder — ” She paused. 

“What, darling?” Mrs. Wright looked up at her with 
loving admiration. 

Maud’s face was flushed. “Oh, nothing very much. I 
was only going to say that I sometimes wonder if he has 
any real use for the dutiful wife after all. I try to please 
him, but all he seems really to want me to do is to please 
myself.” 

Mrs. Wright rose up in her own resilient fashion. “Oh. 
there now ! How like a man ! ” she said. “ They’re as cussed 
as mules, my dear. But never you mind! You’ll catch 
him off his guard one of these days if you keep on. And 
then’ll be your time. You step in and take possession 
before he can turn round and stop you. It’s only a ques- 
tion of patience, dear. It’ll come. It’ll come. ” 

Maud smiled again as she bent to kiss her. “You’re 
such a good friend to me, ” she said. “I’ll be sure to take 
your advice — if I can.” 

“God bless you, my darling!” said Mrs. Wright, with 
great fervour. 

34 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE LANE ‘ OF FIRE 

A n icy wind was blowing as Maud climbed the steep road 
by the church. It whirled down on her with a fierce- 
ness that made quick progress out of the question. Never- 
theless, she fought valiantly against it, fearing that Jake 
would have returned before her. 

It was not dark. The tearing wind had chased all clouds 
from the sky, and the daylight still lingered. Ahead of her 
the North Star hung like a beacon, marvellously bright. 
There was a smell of smoke in the air that seemed to accent- 
uate the bitter coldness. 

The church clock struck six as she passed it, and she 
sought to quicken her steps. She did not want Jake to 
come in search of her. For some reason she did not 
greatly want to tell him how she had been spending the 
afternoon. 

Round the bend of the road the wind caught her merci- 
lessly. She had to battle against it with all her might to 
make any progress at all. It was while she was struggling 
round this bend that there suddenly came to her the sound 
of galloping hoofs and a man’s voice wildly shouting. She 
drew to one side, and stood against the hedge; and in a 
moment a horseman dashed into view and thundered past 
her. He was lying forward on the animal’s neck, urging 
him like a jockey. 

He was gone like a whirlwind into the dusk, and Maud 
530 


The Lane of Fire 


531 


was left with a throbbing heart that seemed to have been 
touched by a hand that was icy-cold. She was nearly sure 
that the animal had come from the Stables and that the 
man was Sam Vickers. He was not a furious rider as a rule. 
What had induced him to ride like that to-night? Some- 
thing was wrong — something was wrong! The certainty 
of it stabbed her like a knife. What could it be? What?' 
What? Had Jake met with an accident? Was Sam tear- 
ing thus madly down to Fairharbour to find the doctor? 

The strength of a great fear entered into her. She be- 
gan to run up the hill in the teeth of the wind. She had 
only half a mile to go. She would soon know the worst. 

But she had not gone twenty yards before her progress 
was checked. She became aware of a drifting mist all about 
her, a mist that made her gasp and choke. She ran on in 
the face of it, but it was with failing progress, for the further 
she went the more it enveloped her like the smoke of a 
vast bonfire. 

The coldness at her heart became a tangible and ever- 
growing fear. She tried to tell herself that the suffocating 
vapour blowing down on her came frpm a group of ricks 
that stood not far from the entrance to the Stables. Some 
mischievous person had fired them, and Sam had dis- 
covered it and gone to raise the alarm. But deep within her 
there clamoured an insistent something that refused to be 
reassured. Struggling on through the blinding, ever-thick- 
ening smoke, the conviction forced itself upon her that no 
hayricks were responsible for that headlong gallop of Sam’s. 
He had gone as a man going for his life. His progress had 
been winged by tragedy. 

Gasping, stumbling, with terror in her soul, she fought 
her way on, till a further bend in the road revealed to her 
the driving smoke all lurid with the glare of flames behind. 
By that curve she escaped from the direct drift of it and 
found herself able to breathe more freely. The shoulder of 


532 


The Hundredth Chance 


the hill protected her at this point in some degree from the 
wind also. She covered the groimd more quickly and with 
less effort. 

It was here that there first came to her that awful sound 
as of a rending, devouring monster — the fierce crackling 
and roaring of fire. The horror of it set all her pulses leap- 
ing, but its effect upon her senses was curiously stimulating. 
Where another might have been paralysed by fear, she was 
driven forward as though goaded irresistibly. It came to 
her — whence she knew not — that something immense lay 
before her. A task of such magnitude as she had never be- 
fore contemplated had been laid upon her; and strength — 
such strength as had never before been hers — had been 
given to her for its accomplishment. 

She did not know exactly when her fear became certainty, 
but when that happened all personal fear passed utterly 
away from her. She forgot herself completely. All her 
being leapt to the fulfilment of the unknown task. 

The last curve in the uphill road brought her within view 
of the red flames rushing skyward and curling over like 
fiery waves before the wind. Through the roar of the fur- 
nace there came to her the shouting of men’s voices and the 
wild stampeding of horses. And twice ere she reached the 
gates she heard the terrible cry of a horse. Then as though 
she moved on wings, she was there in the stable-yard in the 
thick of the confusion, with the fire roaring ahead of her and 
the red glare all around. 

The whole stone-paved space seemed crowded with men 
and horses, and for the first few seconds the noise and move- 
ment bewildered her. Then she grasped the fact that only 
one side of the double row of stables was alight and that in 
consequence of the driving north wind the other side was in 
comparative safety. 

They were leading the. terrified animals out through a 
passage that led to further buildings on this safe side. But 


The Lane of Fire 


533 

the task was no light one, for they were all maddened by 
fear and almost beyond control. 

As she drew nearer however Maud saw that the men 
themselves were grappling with the situation with en- 
ergy and resolution, and there was no panic among them. 
One — a mere lad — gripping a plunging horse by the fore- 
lock, recognized her and shouted a warning through the 
din. 

She came to him, unheeding the trampling hoofs. “Is 
Mr. Bolton back?” she cried. 

He shook his head, striving to back the animal away 
from her. He had a halter flung over his shoulder which 
he had not stopped to adjust. 

Maud took it from him, and between them, with diffi- 
culty, they slipped it over the terrified creature’s head. 
Then, obtaining a jfirmer hold, the boy shouted further in- 
formation. 

“No, the boss ain’t back yet. He’ll be in any minute 
now. Sam’s gone for the fire-engine. He thinks the house 
will be safe if the wind don’t veer. But the other side’ll be 
burnt out before he gets back at this rate. We’ve got most 
all the animals out now though.” 

“Not all?” Maud cried the words with a momentary 
wild misgiving. 

The boy yelled back again, still wrestling with the strug- 
gling horse. “All but The Hundredth Chance. He’s gone 
by this time. We cotddn’t save ’im. It’s like an open fur- 
nace along there. ” 

Then she knew what it was that lay before her, the task 
for which this great new strength had been bestowed. She 
left the boy and ran up the yard in the rear of that raging 
fire. She did not feel the stones under her feet. The seeth- 
ing crowd of men and horses became no more than shadows 
on the wall. Twice as she went she narrowly escaped death 
from the plunging hoofs, and knew it not. . . . 


534 


The Hundredth Chance 


The heat was terrific, but the smoke was all blown away 
from her. She felt no suffocation. But when she reached 
the stone passage that led to the group of loose-boxes where 
once she had stood horror-stricken and listened to Jake 
reprimanding Dick Stevens in the language of the stables, 
she realized the truth of what the boy had said. It was 
like an open furnace. 

Yet there seemed a chance — the faintest chance — that 
that one loose-box at the southern comer, the best loose- 
box in the whole of the Stables — ^might yet be untouched 
by the devouring flames. The block of buildings was alight 
and burning fiercely, but it was not yet alight from end to 
end. It looked like a lane of fire at the end of that stone 
passage, but she could see the line of loose-boxes beyond, 
fitfully through wreaths of smoke. All the doors stood 
open as far as she could see. They had evidently taken the 
animals in order, and it had been the fate of The Hun- 
dredth Chance to be left till last. 

And how to reach him ! It had baffled his rescuers. For 
the moment it baffled her also. She stood at the entrance 
to the stone passage looking through, feeling the stones un- 
der her feet hot like a grid, seeing the red flames leaping 
from roof to roof. 

Then the driving wind came swirling behind her, and she 
felt as if a hand had pushed her. She plunged into the pas- 
sage and ran before it. 

She emerged in that lane of fire. It roared all around 
her. She felt the heat envelop her with a fiery, blistering 
intensity, but ever that unseen hand seemed to urge her. 
She hesitated no more, though she rushed into a seething 
cauldron of flame. 

And ever the thought of Jake was with her, Jake who 
loved his animals as he loved nothing else on earth. 

She reached that line of boxes, how she knew not. The 
roof was burning now from end to end, but as she tore past 


The Lane of Fire 


535 

the open doors there came to her an awful cry, and she knew 
that the colt still lived. 

The smoke came down on her here, blinding her, but 
though it stopped her breath it could not stop her progress. 
It seemed as though no power on earth could do that now 
until she had reached her goal. Crouching, with lungs that 
felt like bursting, she forced a way over those last desperate 
yards. 

Every door was open save that one, and against that one 
there came a maddened wild tattoo. The Hundredth 
Chance was fighting for life. 

She reached the door through swirling smoke. The 
flames were shooting over her head. She caught at the 
bolt. It was burning hot as the door of an oven; but she 
knew no pain. She dragged it back. 

Again there came that fearful shriek and the battering 
of heels against the wood. The animal was plunging about 
his prison like a mad thing. She mustered all her strength 
and pushed upper and lower doors inwards at the same 
moment. 

Instantly there came the rush of hoofs. She was flung 
violently backwards, falling headlong on the stones. The 
Hundredth Chance galloped free ; and she was left shattered,, 
inert, with the fire raging all around her. 

But the deed was done, the great task accomplished. 
And nothing mattered any more. Jake loved his animals 
as he loved nothing else on earth. . . . 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE NEW BOSS 

W HAT was that red light burning ? Symbol of undying 
Love! Symbol of the Immortal! The Lamp that 
burns for ever before the High Altar of Heaven! 

Over the wide, sandy desert it shone, the only light in 
leagues and leagues of darkness. A great many wayfarers 
were drawing towards it, but they were very far away from 
it and from each other. Billows and billows of sandy 
waste stretched between. But they could all see the lamp. 
It shone like a red, still beacon, giving light to the out- 
cast, guiding the feet of the wanderers. 

Ah, the long sandy ridges — how weary for the feet ! Who 
could have faced the journey if God had not lifted up that 
lamp in the desert? Who could ever have hoped to reach 
the goal? Even as it was, the journey w^as long — so long, 
and the light so far away ! 

! [ Who was that speaking? Was it the Voice that had not 
sounded in tempest or fire, but only at the very last, when 
all other things were past? “Love is only gained by Love, 
— by the complete renunciation of self. Love is a joyful 
sacrifice, — to give and give without measure, not count- 
ing the cost, rejoicing only in the power to give, till it all 
comes back a thousand-fold — Love the Invincible, Love 
the Divine, Love the Perfect Gift.” 

Surely it was Love Itself that spoke those words — Love 
that had raised that eternal beacon — Love that drew the 

536 


The New Boss 


537 


pilgrims out of the long, dark night ! And the sandy desert 
faded and became a garden where white lilies bloomed — 
lilies that faded not, such lilies as decked the High Altar 
of Heaven. 

There were no wayfarers here. There was no journey- 
ing for tired feet. Only a peace ineffable, beyond the 
power of words to describe. The lilies grew tall and white, 
unspeakably pure, fairer than any earthly flowers, dazzling 
in splendour, decked in holiness. Very peaceful was that 
quiet garden, with no song of birds to break the stillness, 
no whisper of fountains, no faintest echo of voices. Per- 
fect rest was there, a calm as the calm of still waters, a 
hush that was Divine. Like a veil the solitude lay 
spread, stretching into the great spaces of eternity. And 
the lilies stood waiting, waiting, to be laid upon the Altar 
of God. 

How long had they stood waiting thus ? Were they yet not 
pure enough? How long had they still to wait? Would 
the gates of that garden never open and the angel that 
served the Altar come to gather the flowers? Ah! Surely 
they were opening now! There came a waft of air, the 
scent and sound of the earth. But no one entered, and the 
lilies never stirred. Only the gates remained open, and 
the peace that wrapt the garden quivered like a filmy veil. 

Very far away from that quiet place someone was call- 
ing, calling. At first it was suggestion rather than sound, 
a vague murmur from the old, sad world so many millions 
of miles away. But gradually it grew till it seemed the 
echo of a cry, and at last the cry itself became articulate, — 
a cry of anguish rising from the void. 

“Come back! Come back! 0 God, send her back to 
me! Send her back!” 

The lilies were moving now. They seemed to be listen- 
ing, whispering together. The wind that blew through 
the open gates rustled among their ranks. Someone was 


538 


The Hundredth Chance 


lost then. Someone was wanted. Someone was being 
sought through the great spaces of eternity. Was it a soul 
that had drifted free too soon? Would the searcher ever 
find that drifting soul ? Did the one greatBond that^nought 
could ever sever hang between them, linking each to each ? 
It was only by the drawing closer of this Bond that they 
would ever find each other. 

And the way back was long and dark and stormy. Other 
worlds were there, other worlds and other voices. And 
once there came a great sound of singing as of men and an- 
gels praising God before the High Altar of Heaven. 

Then the darkness of earth rushed upwards like the smoke 
from a mighty furnace, and all was blotted out. . . . 

Someone was holding her. Someone was whispering 
her name. She opened her eyes upon the old world of cloud 
and sunshine, and knew that the Bond had brought her 
back. Through all the great spaces of Eternity he had 
drawn her to his side. She looked into his face, and it was 
the face of a man who had suffered agony. 

“Thank God!” he said. “0 thank God!” 

Then she remembered in what cause she had spent her- 
self. “What of — The Hundredth Chance?” she said. 

He caught his breath. His lips were quivering. “He’s 
safe enough. But — my girl — what made you do it?” 

She looked at him wonderingly. “But it was all I could 
do, ” she said. 

He bent his head over something that he was holding, 
and it came to her with a little start of surprise that it was 
her own hand swathed in bandages. 

“Oh, Jake,” she said, “am I ill? Have I been hurt?” * 

He did not look at her. “Thank God, not seriously,” 
he said, speaking with an odd jerkiness. ‘ ‘ The colt knocked 
you down. You were stunned. You scorched your hands 
over that infernal bolt. But the wind blew the fire away 
from you. You weren’t actually burnt.” 


The New Boss 


539 

‘‘Is the fire out?’* she asked anxiously. “Tell me 
what happened!” 

Jake’s head was still bent. She thought that he suppressed 
a shudder. “Yes, they soon got it under. There wasn’t 
much left to burn that side. It was a good thing the wind 
held, or the whole show might have been gutted. It’s all 
safe now.” 

Maud’s eyes wandered round the panelled parlour and 
came back to his bent head. “ I feel so strange, ” she said, 
“as if I had been a long, long journey, and as if it had all 
happened ages and ages ago. Is it so very long ago, Jake ? ” 

“About four hours,” said Jake. “Dr. Burro wes has 
been in. He chanced to be passing in his dog-cart. He 
was on his way to a case, and couldn’t stay except to give 
you first aid. He is coming back presently.” 

“And you have been here with me ever since?” she 
said, with a touch of shyness. “Didn’t you want to be 
looking after the animals?” 

He shook his head, gazing steadily downwards. 

“Have you been — anxious about me, Jake?” she whis- 
pered. 

“Yes.” Just the one word spoken with an almost sav- 
age emphasis. 

“But Dr. Burro wes must have known if — if I were in 
any danger,” she said. 

He answered her with what she felt to be a great effort. 
“Burrowes was anxious too. He was afraid of the shock 
for you. He thought there was — danger.” 

She moved her hand a little, and in a moment, as though 
he feared to hurt her, he laid it gently down. 

“I am so sorry you have been worried about me,” she 
said. 

“It doesn’t matter now,” said Jake. He reached out 
for a glass that stood on the table. “Burrowes left this 
for you. Can you manage to drink it?” 


540 


The Hundredth Chance 


He held it to her lips with a hand that was not so steady 
as usual. She drank and felt revived. 

Her brain was becoming more active. There was some- 
thing in Jake’s attitude that required explanation. “I 
am better now, ” she said. “Tell me a little more! How 
did I get here? Who found me?” 

“I found you. The Hundredth Chance came tearing 
out. We had some trouble to catch him. And then one of 
the boys suddenly said — ” Jake stopped and swallowed 
hard — “said — said you had been in the yard, and must have 
set him free. I — got to you — ^just in time. ” 

“You saved me?” she said swiftly. 

He nodded. 

She raised herself, leaning towards him. “Jake! Were 
you hurt?” 

“ No. ” He kept his eyes stubbornly lowered. 

“No one has been hurt ? ” she persisted., 

“No one but you.” His tone was almost surly. 

But something urged her on. “Jake,” she said wist- 
fully, ‘ ‘ aren’t you glad your animals are all safe ? ” 

“They belong to the new boss,” he said doggedly. 
“They don’t belong to me.” 

Her face changed a little. “I think they belong to you 
first, Jake,” she said. “You love them so.” 

He made a sharp gesture. “ It’s quite likely the new boss 
will tell me to shunt.” 

“Oh, he won’t do that, Jake!” she protested quickly. 
“I’m sure he won’t do that. You — ^you are one of the best 
trainers in England. ” 

His mouth twitched a little; she thought he wryly smiled. 
“ One of the best blackguards too, my girl, ” he said grimly. 

She opened her eyes in surprise. “Jake, what do you 
mean? Are people saying hateful things against you?” 

He gripped his hands between his knees. “It ain’t that 
I meant. People can say what they damn please. No, 


The New Boss 


541 


it s just my own estimate of myself. I’m going to chuck 
the animals. They’ve come near costing me too dear. I’m 
going to give in to you now. You can do what you like 
with me. I’ll serve you to the best of my ability, fetch and 
carry and generally wait around on you till you’re tired of 
me. Then I’ll go. ” 

“Jake! Jake!” She was half-laughing, but there was 
remonstrance in her voice. “But I never wanted you to 
give up the animals. Why, I don’t believe you could live 
without them, could you?” 

He gave himself an odd, half-angry shake. “I’ve done 
with ’em!” he declared almost fiercely. “I can’t serve 
two masters. If the new boss don’t chuck me, I shall chuck 
him.” 

“But the horses, Jake!” she urged. “And The Hun- 
dredth Chance! You can’t be in earnest. You — you'have 
always loved them better than anything else in the world!” 

He winced sharply. “You’re wrong! And I am in ear- 
nest. If — if you had lost your life over the colt, I’d have shot 
him first and myself after. What sort of brute do you take 
me for? Do you think I’m without any heart at all? All 
animal and no heart?” 

The question was passionate, but yet he did not look at 
her as he uttered it. He was gazing downwards at his 
clenched hands. 

He was formidable at that moment, but she did not shrink 
from him. Rather she drew nearer. “Of course I don’t 
think so,’* she said. “But — but — am I first with you, 
Jake? Am I really first?” 

He made a choked sound in his throat as if many emotions 
struggled for utterance. Then, almost under his breath, 
“An easy first!” he muttered. “An easy first!” 

Her bandaged hand slipped on to his arm. Her eyes were 
shining. “Oh, Jake, thank you for telling me that,” she 
said. “You^ — I know you didn’t want to tell me. And — 


■ 542 


The Hundredth Chance 


now — I’ve got to tell you something — that I don’t want to 
tell you either — that I don’t know how to tell you. Oh, 
Jake, do help me! Don’t — don’t be angry!” 

He turned towards her, but he did not lift his eyes. He 
seemed almost afraid to look her in the face. “My girl, 
you’ve no call to be afraid of me,” he said. 

But there was constraint in his tone, constraint in his 
attitude, and her heart sank, 

“I’m so — horribly afraid — of hurting you,” she said. 

A faint, faint gleam of humour crossed his face. “Oh, 
I guess I’m down,” he said. “You needn’t be afraid of 
that either.” 

She tried to clasp his arm. “Jake, if — if I really come 
first with you, perhaps — perhaps — you’ll be able to forgive 
me. It’s because you came first with me too — a very, 
very long way first — ” her voice shook — “that I was 
able to do it. It’s because I wanted you to have what you 
wanted without — without feeling under an obligation to me 
or anyone. It’s because — ^because your happiness is more 
to me — a thousand times more — than anything else in the 
world!” Her breast began to heave; Jake’s eyes were 
suddenly upon her, but it was she who could not, dared not 
meet their look. “Ah, I haven’t told you yet!” she said 
brokenly. “How shall I tell you? It’s — it’s the animals, 
Jake. It’s the Stud!” 

“What about the Stud?” he said. His voice was sunk 
very low, it sounded stern. 

With a great effort she mastered her agitation and an- 
swered him. “It’s yours, Jake, all yours. The new boss is — 
is just an invention of Mr. Rafiord’s. You — you are — 
the new boss.” 

“What?” he said. 

He got up suddenly, with a movement that verged upon 
violence, and stood over her, she felt, almost threateningly. 

Through quivering distress she answered him again. 


The New Boss 


543 


‘‘I’ve played a double game. I met Mr. Rafford first at 
Liverpool and then I chanced to meet him again here after — 
after you had refused to have my money. And he was kind 
and sympathetic and offered to help me. I wanted you so 
to have the horses. And I couldn’t bear to think that you 
should lose them through me. Oh, Jake, don’t look so — 
so terrible!” 

She sank back panting on her cushions. That one brief 
glimpse of his face had appalled her. He had the look of 
a man hard pressed and nearing the end of his strength. 
She saw that his hands were clenched. 

He spoke after several tense seconds. “Why have you 
done this thing?” 

She made a piteous gesture. “Oh, Jake, only — only be- 
cause I loved you.” 

“Only!” he said, and with the word she saw his hand 
unclench. 

For a moment a wild uncertainty possessed her, and then 
it was gone. Jake dropped down on his knees beside her 
and took her into his arms. 

“Maud — ” he said, and again, “Maud!” 

But no further words would come. His voice broke. He 
hid his face against her breast with a great sob. 

Her arms were round his neck in an instant, her cheek 
was pressed against his hair. All doubts were gone forever. 

‘ ‘ My darling ! ’ ’ she whispered. ‘ ‘ My darling ! ’ ’ 

And through the great storm of emotion that shook Jake, 
she said the soft words over and over, holding his head 
against her heart, kissing the cropped hair above his temple, 
drawing him nearer, ever nearer, to the inner sanctuary of 
her soul, till at length by the shattering of her own reserve 
she broke down the last of his also. He lifted his face to 
her with no attempt to hide his tears, and in the long, long 
kiss that passed between them they found each other at 
last where the sand of the desert turns to gold. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


OLD SCORES 

S OMEONE was whistling on the garden-path below the 
parlour-window. Someone had sauntered up by way 
of the orchard through an April night of radiant moonlight, 
and was softly whistling an old, old love-song with a waltz- 
refrain. 

There was a light burning in the parlour, and at the table 
a woman sat with bent head working. She did not look up 
as the sweet, rhythmic sound reached her. She worked 
steadily on. 

The waltz-refrain came to an end. There fell a step out- 
side the window. A wicked, mischievous face peered in. 

“What! All alone, queen of the roses? Will you grant 
me admittance ? ’ ' 

She looked across at him then, but she did not rise. 
“Come in, certainly, if you wish!” she said. 

He came in with the air of one conferring a royal favour. 
He moved round the table to her side, bent, and lightly 
kissed her hand. 

She suffered him with an enigmatic smile, scarcely paus- 
ing in her work. 

“And where is the worthy cow-puncher?” he said. 

She raised her brows ever so slightly. “Are you speak- 
ing of Jake — my husband?” 

He smiled briefly, derisively. “ Even so. Of Jake— 
your husband.” 


544 


Old Scores 


545 


She smiled also, but her smile was wholly sweet. **He 
will be in soon. He has gone round to see that all is well. 
Sit down, won’t you, and wait till he comes?” 

“Oh ho!” said Saltash. He sat down facing her, closely 
watching her every movement with his queer, restless eyes. 
“Do you think he will be pleased to see me?” he asked. 

She glanced at him. “As pleased as I am,” she said. 

“Are you pleased?” He flung the question as though he 
scarcely expected an answer. 

But she answered it with serenity. “Yes, I am quite 
pleased to see you, Charlie. I have been half-expecting 
you all day. ” 

“Really!” he said. 

She bent her head. “Ever since I heard of your return 
to the Castle. It was kind of you to come round so soon. 
And we want to thank you — Jake and I — for letting us use 
the stables till the new ones at Graydown are leady. ” 

“Really!” Saltash said again. He added, “As half 
are already demolished and the other half will be pulled 
down as soon as the Stud goes, it was not much of a favour 
to grant. Do I understand that Jake is to continue in com- 
mand under the new regime?'^ 

She smiled again as she answered, “In absolute com- 
mand. ” 

He frowned momentarily. * * A fortunate thing for J ake ! ’ ’ 

“He thinks so too,” she said. 

He began to finger his cigarette case. “Do you mind if 
I smoke?” 

“Not in the least.” She raised her eyes suddenly and 
fully to his. “Please remember that you are in the house 
of friends!” she said, with a slight emphasis on the last 
word. 

“You amaze me!” said Saltash. 

She laid aside her work with heightened colour. “Char- 
lie, I have some rather serious things to say to you.” 


546 


The Hundredth Chance 


“My dear girl,” he protested, “must you?” 

“Yes, I must, and you must listen.” She spoke with 
resolution. “ I will be as brief as I possibly can, but I must 
speak. Smoke — please smoke — if you want to ! ” 

He laughed a little, leaning towards her. “On second 
thoughts, I don’t. This promises to be interesting, after 
all. Do you know when I came in just now you looked so 
prim that I was nearly frightened quite away?” 

She was looking him straight in the face. “Charlie, 
why did you come?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Ask the needle why it fol- 
lows the magnet!” he said. 

His eyes caressed her, but she steadily faced them. “I 
ought to hate you,” she said. “But I don’t. I think of 
you always — in spite of myself — as a friend. I suppose that 
is a woman’s way — to be tricked and to forgive. Anyhow, 
I forgave you a long while ago. I believe I have even be- 
gun to forget. Charlie, I know that you are capable of a 
sincere friendship. I can’t help knowing it. ” 

“You deceive yourself, ” he said lightly. His eyes still 
dwelt upon her, but it was with a half -tender mockery, as 
one who smiles at the make-believe of a child. 

Her lips quivered a little. “No, ” she said. “ It is the 
truth. You are pleased to wear a mask — but I know — the 
real man. I know that you are often crooked in your deal- 
ings, often cruelly malicious and vindictive ; but at the back 
of it all there is a man capable of big things, of chivalry, 
generosity, and honest kindness of heart. Charlie, I appeal 
to that man!” 

“What do you want of him?” said Saltash. And still 
he looked at her, but again his look had changed. The 
mockery had given place to a species of dispassionate curi- 
osity. His ugly face had the odd melancholy as of some- 
thing longed for but hopelessly lost which may be seen on 
the face of a monkey. 


S 


i 


t 


Old Scores 


547 

Because of that look she suddenly stretched out her hands 
to him impulsively, generously. 

“I want fair play,” she said. “Perhaps I don’t deserve 
it. I haven’t always treated you fairly. But I want you 
to put the past away from you — as I have done. I want 
to trust you again. ” 

There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. He held her 
i hands hard pressed in his. 

“A dangerous experiment, Maud of the roses,” he said. 
“But if you will you must. What more do you want?” 

She answered him quickly, pleadingly. “Charlie, you 
have a grudge against — my husband! I want it put 
right away — aright away. I don’t think you have the power 
to hurt him, but even if you had, I want to know that you 
wouldn’t use it. He has always served you faithfully. I 
want fair play for him. ” 

Saltash’s dark face showed a faint, twisted smile. “You 
certainly credit me with considerable generosity, ” he said. 

“He deserves fair play from you, ” she insisted. “You 
have tried to undermine his reputation, and you have failed. 
But you might have succeeded, although you know, as well 
as I do — that he is a white man. ” 

“Do I?” said Saltash. 

“You do! You do!” she said with conviction. “You 
have no right to cherish a grudge against him. He has done 
nothing to deserve it.” 

“And how do you know that?” said Saltash. 

“I know him, ” she said with simplicity. 

“ I see. ” His smile became a little more marked. “ Did 
he ever tell you the funny story of my double?” he asked. 

She gave a great start, and in a moment her face was burn- 
ing. 

“I see,” he said again. “You needn’t answer. And 
you tell me that I have no right to cherish a grudge against 
him.” 


548 The Hundredth Chance 

She spoke with difficulty. “He did not accuse you of 
anything. ” 

Saltash laughed. “Left you to draw your own conclu- 
sions, eh? Score number one! And after that, when he 
knew that I was coming home, when he knew that you were 
mine for the asking, didn’t he race you into marriage with 
him before you had time to find your breath? ” 

Her face burned more hotly. “Wouldn’t you have done 
the same?” she said. 

He looked sardonic. “You must remember that I am 
not — a white man, my queen of the roses. My standards 
won’t compare with his. Score number two then! And 
hasn’t he baulked me at every turn ever since ? When have 
I ever got back any of my own — except once when I made 
you see him as he wasn’t — a drunkard, and except when 
one night of moonshine I held you in my arms and you gave 
your lips to mine?” His voice suddenly thrilled. 

She caught her breath sharply. ‘ ‘ I was mad ! ’ ’ she said. 
“I was mad!” 

She would have withdrawn her hands from his, but he 
frustrated her. A gleam of mischief flashed in his eyes. 
“No, Maud of the roses, it was just — a dream. Have you 
never said to yourself. That was the happiest dream of my 
life?” 

She shook her head. “ That part of my life is over — quite 
over. I have come into reality, and — Charlie — it is better 
than any dream. That is why I want all that is evil to be 
taken away. If Jake has ever wronged you, then I have 
wronged you. And I appeal to your kindness of heart, your 
generosity, for forgiveness.” 

The mischief died out of the eyes that watched her. Sal- 
tash bent a little over the hands he held. “But why should 
you take that trouble — if I have ceased to count?” he said. 

“You do count, ’’she answered quickly and earnestly. 

“Surely not if — as you say — it is out of my power to hurt 


Old Scores 


549 

him. There was a hint of banter in the words, but they 
held no venom. 

“It isn’t that,” she said. ‘T want to know that the 
hatchet is buried, that there will be no more ill feeling. 
Jake is his own master, and I know he will make his mark. 
But I want him to have a fair chance, free from all 
handicap. ” 

“ What do you mean by that?” Saltash suddenly broke 
in. “I presume he is still a paid servant though it may no 
longer be my privilege to employ him. ” 

She lifted her head a little. “No. Jake is his own mas- 
ter. The Stud was bought with my money. It belongs to 
him. ” 

Saltash’s brows went up. “Your money? You never 
had any!” 

“Never before last winter,” she said. “I inherited a 
very large fortune from my uncle in the North. It came to 
me — just in time. ” 

Saltash’s brows were working up and down like a mon- 
key’s. “And you — bought the Stud? Then all this Amer- 
ican business was bunkum! Did my agent know of this?” 

She shook her head. “No; no one knows yet except 
Jake, Bunny, and me.” 

He let her hands go abruptly, and began to pace the 
room. 

She stood motionless, watching him. “Even Jake did 
not know till it had all gone through, ” she said, after a 
moment. “I told him — on the night of the fire.” 

“What did he say?” Saltash tossed the words over his 
shoulder. His dark face was drawn, almost distorted. 

Maud hesitated. Then : “He asked me why I had done 
it, ” she said, in a low voice. 

He paused in his walk. “And you struck a bargain with 
him? He was to let you go your own way for all time, please 
yourself, live your own life! Wasn’t that it?” 


550 


The Hundredth Chance 


Her eyes fell involuntarily before the sudden fire in his. 
“ Oh no ! ” she said quickly. “ Oh no ! I didn’t want that.” 

“What then?” He wheeled and came to her, stood be- 
fore her. “ Surely you didn’t give him all that for nothing ! ” 

She faced him again steadily. “He wouldn’t have taken 
it, ” she said. 

“Then — ” he was standing close to her; his odd eyes 
gazed, deeply craving, into hers. 

But she did not flinch. “I gave it to him — for love,” 
she said. 

He made a sudden movement; his features were for a 
moment convulsed. Then swiftly he controlled himself. 
“You — ^love the man!” he said. 

She clasped her hands together tightly. Her eyes never 
wavered for an instant from his. * ‘ Yes, I love him, ” she said. 

He flung violently away from her. “Why didn’t I de- 
stroy him long ago ? ” he said. 

Again he paced the room with sharp, jerky movements. 
Suddenly he flung two questions over his shoulder. “That 
was why you changed your mind after sending me that ring? 
That was what you came to me to the Castle to tell me?” 

She bent her head. ‘ ‘ I believe that was the reason. But 
I couldn’t have told you that then. I didn’t know it my- 
self.” 

“How long have you known it?” 

He was not looking at her, and very piteously she smiled. 
“It came to me — quite suddenly — in the hall at ‘The 
Anchor ’ when you told me — you told me — that he 
wouldn’t be such a fool as to believe in me. I left him 
without seeing him again. And then — and then — just 
when my uncle died — he came to me. And I knew that 
he did believe in me after all. ” 

Saltash broke into a laugh — the laugh of a man who hides 
pain. “It was my doing then! Come, you owe me some- 
thing after all. But it seems I have been misspending my 


Old Scores 


551 

energies ever since. I thought you wanted to be rid of 
him.” 

Again abruptly he came back to her, stopped in front of 
her. “And so it all came out on the night of the fire,” he 
said. 

She looked at him, and her blue eyes shone. “Yes,” she 
said softly. “There have been no misunderstandings since 
then. ” 

He smiled a little with twisted brows. “Do you know 
who was responsible for that fire?” 

She started. “No!” 

“ A certain scoundrel named Stevens, ” he said. “The 
same scoundrel who pulled the Albatross at the Cup Meet- 
ing, and was thrashed for it by the virtuous cow-puncher. 
Do you know who was at the back of that scoundrel?” 

Her eyes fell before the grim bitterness of his. “Char- 
lie!” she faltered. 

“Yes, Charlie,” he said. “Charles Burchester, Lord 
Salt ash, another scoundrel blacker than the first who had 
suffered a similar punishment for a somewhat similar offence 
from the same virtuous hands. Scoundrel number one 
won’t trouble you again. I have shipped him off to Aus- 
tralia. Scoundrel number two is awaiting his orders to 
go to — another place. ” 

Hcx lips suddenly quivered. She put out a trembling 
hand. “Charlie, I don’t believe it of you!” 

“Believe it or not, ” he said, “it’s true. I’m a spiteful 
devil. You said so yourself a minute ago. ” But he held 
her hand almost as one pleading for clemency. 

She raised her eyes to his. The fascination of the man 
drew her, but — ^possibly for the first time — not against her 
better judgment. “Let us forget it all!” she said. “Let 
us be friends!” 

He laughed in a fashion that moved her to pity, and bend- 
ing kissed her hand. “If Jake agrees — Amen!” he said. 


552 


The Hundredth Chance 


And then sharply, like an animal trapped, he turned to- 
wards the window and met Jake face to face. 

They stood for a moment so, confronting each other in 
dead silence. Then lightly Saltash spoke. 

“Caught trespassing, but not poaching!’- he said. 
“Your wife and I have been settling — old scores.” 

Jake’s eyes went past him to his wife’s face. She made 
no sign of any kind, save that she met the look. 

Jake came quietly forward. “You are very welcome, my 
lord, ” he said, and held out a steady hand. 

A gleam of surprise crossed Saltash’s dark face. He 
took the hand, looking at Jake whimsically. “You are the 
fellow who is not accustomed to being beaten at the winning- 
post,” he said. “ Well, you were a bad starter and the odds 
were dead against you, but you’ve got there. I congratulate 
you.” 

“You are very good, my lord.” Jake’s eyes, red-brown 
and resolute, looked into his. 

Saltash shrugged his shoulders, with a slight grimace. 
“The role is thrust upon me. I wonder if I shall be able to 
sustain it.” 

Something in the word reached Jake. His lips parted in 
a sudden smile that banished all the hardness from his face. 
His hand squarely gripped and held. For a second — ^just 
a second — there was a gleam of comradeship in his eyes. ‘ ‘ I 
guess it’s up to you, my lord, ” he said. 

The moment passed and Saltash turned aside, laughing 
with a certain royal graciousness that was all his own. 
“The odds are ninety-nine to one, Bolton, ” he said. “ But 
you are too accustomed to that to be dismayed. ” 

“I put my money on the hundredth chance,” Jake 
answered in his slow, sure fashion. “ And I reckon I 
shan’t lose it. ” 


EPILOGUE 


THE FINISH 


T he black colt leads ! The black colt leads ! He wins ! 
He wins ! He wins ! ’ ’ 

A great shout went up from the straining multitude as 
The Hundredth Chance, ridden by Sam Vickers, shot past 
the winning-post three lengths ahead of the horse behind. 
It was a sensational victory, for it was his maiden race, and 
the crowd yelled themselves hoarse over it, cheering and 
cheering again till the black colt came forth in a welter of 
sweat and foam to gather his laurels, still carrying his 
jockey and led by his owner, Jake Bolton. 

He bore himself proudly, as if fully conscious of the dis- 
tinction he had won. Jake looked proud too. He stuffed 
some sugar between the wet lips as he came, and his hand 
caressed the streaming neck. It was a popular meeting, 
and it was plainly a popular victory, though the favourite 
had not proved the winner. Jake Bolton’s name went from 
mouth to mouth, and the throng cheered him to the echo. 
He smiled his open, pleasant smile in answer. He had been 
looking to this moment for the past two years, he had 
worked hard for it ; and his trust in The Hundredth Chance 
had been vindicated, his labour rewarded. He knew that 
yet greater victories lay before his favourite. The Hun- 
dredth Chance was a born winner. He would be famous. 

Back in the paddock a slim, boyish figure leaped to meet 
him. “Jake, he’s a stunner! Let me hold him a minute, 
Jake! Well done, Sam! Well done!’’ 

553 


554 


The Hundredth Chance 


Sam grinned from ear to ear as he dropped from the saddle. 
“Pretty sight, weren’t it, Sir Bernard?” 

“Best I’ve ever seen!” declared Bunny enthusiastically. 
He led the black colt proudly after his jockey for a few paces, 
then gave him up and went back to Jake. “Old feller, I’m 
so jolly bucked,” he said, hugging his arm, “I want to 
dance on my head. Do you know what I heard a chap say 
of you just now — a chap who knew too ? He said, ‘ There 
goes the Lynx — one of the straightest men on the Turf.’ It 
sounded just fine. I wanted to go and shake hands with 
him.” 

Jake laughed, a quiet satisfied laugh. “Was Maud 
pleased?” 

“Oh! rather! She’s going home now, said I was to tell 
you; said she’d save up and congratulate you in private.” 

“That so?” said Jake. 

He disengaged himself from Bunny and went about his 
business, but the smile lingered in his eyes for the rest of the 
afternoon. And it was the smile of a man who grasps his 
heart’s desire. 

There was a white house on one of the great rolling downs 
behind the Graydown race-course, a low, white house with 
gabled roofs and dark green shutters. There were wood- 
land trees about it, and a terraced garden bright with many 
spring flowers. 

Behind it lay the racing-stables, also white, — ^model sta- 
bles, the pride of Jake’s heart. He seldom approached the 
house by any other route. But as he passed between the 
long, orderly buildings on that particular evening after his 
horse’s victory, he did not linger. Straight to the house he 
went, and straight within, pausing only in the wide, square 
hall to throw down hat and whip ere he passed on, guided 
by the notes of a piano, to a room that overlooked the garden 
and the whole sweep of hill-side beyond. 

She did not hear him enter, albeit she was playing softly, 


The Finish 


555 


a dreamy melody that had in it something of dawning glad- 
ness and of infinite hope. Only Chops, the red setter, lying 
by the open French window, looked up and wagged a noise- 
less welcome. Then as he reached her, she caught the 
jingle of his spurs and in a moment she had turned to meet 
him with a vivid smile of eagerness. 

“Oh, Jake, I am so glad — so glad!” 

He put his arms about her as she sat, holding the flushed 
face upturned to his. “What’s that you’re playing, my 
girl? Not a paean of thanksgiving!” 

Her eyelids fluttered under his look. She laughed 
faintly. She offered him her lips with just a hint of shy- 
ness. He kissed her, but he continued to look at her with 
an intent glitter in his eyes. “You’re glad, are you?” he 
said. “Real glad?” 

Her arms clung about his neck. “Yes, real glad, Jake. 
I know you call The Hundredth Chance your luck. I was 
horribly anxious lest — lest he should lose after all. ” 

He smiled a little. “What if he had? Think I can’t 
stand up to a loss?” 

She lifted her eyes to his for a moment, but they fell al- 
most immediately. “No. To use your own language, I 
think you’re just fine. But — but all the same, I’ve been sav- 
ing up a little consolation for you in case you needed it. ” 

“That so?” said Jake. He spoke very softly through 
lips that were suddenly tender. “Well, let’s imagine I’m 
in need of consolation! I’d enjoy to be consoled by 
you. ” 

She laughed again that faint, shy laugh, and, freeing one 
hand, began to feel over the keys of the piano, striking a 
soft chord here and there. 

Jake stood for a moment or two, then squarely bent, 
bringing his face on a level with hers. 

She made a slight gesture of protest, and then very sud- 
denly, as if compelled, she raised her eyes fully to his. 


556 


The Hundredth Chance 


“You once told me you’d enjoy — something quite differ- 
ent, ” she said. 

The red-brown eyes gazed deeply into hers. “And — 
good land — how shocked you were!” he said. “You 
didn’t view yourself as a plain man’s wife in those days, 
my princess. Reckon you hated the plain man pretty 
badly for teaching you the meaning of the word. ” 

She laid one hand against his breast. Her eyes were of 
that intense blueness that comes from the heart of a sapphire. 
“And now,” she said, “I love him better every day — 
every night.” 

His big hand closed upon her wrist. He drew a great 
breath. “ Ah 1 ” he said. 

She went on, albeit her lips were quivering. “I don’t 
need to tell you that, do I? You know it so well. I don’t 
think I really need to tell you — of this other thing either — 
of this big, big gift that is coming to us. Oh, Jake, dear 
Jake, I have so hoped — so hoped!” 

He held her closer. “My own girl! Guess you’ll be 
happy now!” he whispered. 

She smiled at him through tears. “No, not for my own 
sake, — for yours — for yours ! ” 

“For mine!” he said. “Haven’t you given me all the 
world and then some?” 

She uttered a trembling laugh. “I’ve given you lots that 
you didn’t want to take — things that have cost me nothing. 
But this — this is different. And — it’s the thing 3 ^ou 
wanted.” 

He clasped her to him almost fiercely. “ My girl, I want 
nothing — no one — but you!” 

She clung to him with a tenseness that was passionate. 
“That is what I wanted to say to you, my darling. You 
will always be first — first — first. Dr. Capper once told me 
that — that my frog would turn into a prince some day. 
And — dear — ^he was right. You are the prince of my heart 


The Finish 


557 

— ^for ever. I love you as — as I never thought it was 
humanly possible to love. 

“Maybe it’s not — all human,” he whispered, with lips 
that moved against her own. 

“You are right,” she whispered back. “It is Divine. 
The perfect Gift. But it only comes to those who give — 
without measure — not counting the cost — rejoicing only in 
the power to give — till it all comes back a thousandfold — 
a thousandfold. ” Her voice thrilled, her arms clung closer. 
“I once heard a man preach about that. And at the end he 
said, ‘ It is then that the ploughman overtakes the reaper, 
for ploughman and reaper are one.’ Jake, I think that man 
spoke a great truth. You and I have done some heavy 
ploughing, but we are beginning to be reapers now. ” Her 
lips suddenly pressed his closely, lingeringly. Her tears 
were gone. “It’s good to reap our own harvest, isn’t it, 
J ake ? ’ ’ she murmured. ‘ ‘ Y ours and mine together ? ’ ’ 

And Jake answered her in his own language, his voice very 
soft and slow, his eyes gazing straight into hers, seeing her 
soul. “Sure!” he said. “Sure!” 


THE END 



BARS OF IRON 

BY E. M. DELL 

Author of 

“The Way of an Eagle,” “The Rocks of Valpr^,” 
“The Keeper of the Door,” etc. 

I?®, COLOR FRONTISPIECE, 560 PAGES, $1,50 

The story of a man who, goaded into a 
fight, yields to the devil that masters him and 
hurls his opponent to death. Years later, 
unknowing of her identity and equally un- 
known, he falls in love with the widow of 
the man he has killed and kindles in her a 
friendship that has in it the promise of a 
stronger feeling. At that stage, he learns 
by chance the awful part that he had played 
in her life, and the story is the story of his 
conduct under the trying conditions of this 
discovery, of the resolution he formed, the 
promise he made, and the way his actions, 
dictated by fear and affection, influenced the 
woman he loved. 


G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS 

NEW YORK LONDON 



The Gun Brand 

By 

James B. Hendryx 

Author of "The Promise,” etc. 

Color Frontispiece, V. Clyde Forsythe, $1,50 
Postage Additional 

Like The Promise, this book is a 
rugged story of “ North of 60 — a story 
of exciting incidents of craft, of despair, 
of generous courage, of lofty purpose, 
— of the battledore and shuttlecock 
existence of a girl fought for, on the one 
side, by a man whose pure love cries 
out for her companionship, and, on the 
other, by an equally determined person 
whose incentive is money-lust and who 
is ruthless in the pursuit of his ends. 

Hendryx has achieved a high place 
as a writer of “ the North.’^ 


G. P. Putnam’s Sons 

New York London 



The 

Stars in their G>urses 

By 

Hilda M. Sharp 

12®. Picture Wrapper. $1.50 

The story of Patrick, a gambler by 
inherited instinct, a natural fighter 
against odds, but withal a strong char- 
acter. Disinherited by his father, he 
stakes everything upon a gamble, with 
his own reputation as the stake — and 
loses. This novel is by a new author 
who has a fresh viewpoint, and who 
portrays with unerring skill, in a very 
stirring story, the characters of Patrick, 
his smug and crafty cousin, and the 
girl they both love. 

G. P. Putnam’s Sons 

New York London 



The 

Yeoman Adventurer 

By 

George W. Gough 

12®. Color Frontispiece. $140 

The hero of this stirring historical 
novel is a young Staffordshire farmer 
who is plunged headlong into a breath- 
less whirl of strange adventures at 
the time of “ Bonnie” Prince Charlie’s 
Jacobean rebellion. The story opens 
in December, 1745, when the rebellion 
was at its height and Prince Charles 
in Derby. 


G. P. Putnam^s Sons 

New Ywk London 





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